Birds of a Feather
by Thrifty-Crimson
Summary: Many things have changed since the Battle of Hogwarts; Hermione included. Now, a dangerous stalker is sending her grotesque gifts, friends are becoming foes, and worse yet, foes are becoming friends. Rated M for obvious reasons.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: After some intense editing, I'm finally ready to republish this story. It's one of my favorites and I know many others enjoyed it as well. Hopefully you'll enjoy it just as much, if not more. I only made a few changes to the original story line but I did redo my outline so that it'll last a bit longer. I'll be updating chapters every few days until we catch up to where I'm still writing or until it's ultimately finished. Thank you for your continued support - TC_

* * *

 ** _One_** _– Grimmauld Place – 6:29am_

Hermione jumped at the sound of her alarm buzzing. Hitting the top of the screeching metal contraption, she briefly considered just using her wand as an alarm from now on but scraped the idea almost immediately. She had gone the first eleven years of her life without magic. She didn't need to rely on it for everything.

Stretching beneath the threadbare covers, she began to kick them off before pushing herself up and out of her bed. Padding across the floor to the dresser, she eyed her reflection in the mirror for a moment. She had always looked a little pale in the mornings, but more so after the war. It had only been a few months, hardly enough time to really make a difference, but they were all moving on.

She, Harry, and Ron had decided not to return to Hogwarts. The memories were too painful and none of them really felt like schoolchildren any longer. To try to return to the castle would have only caused more damage. She had surprised everyone the most though. Bookish Hermione Granger didn't want to set NEWT records?

 _Not anymore_ , had been her reserved answer. Not after being on the run in the woods for months. Not after being hunted, caught, and tortured. Not after watching people she loved and respected die right in front of her.

She didn't feel like the same person half of the time. And the other half of the time she was just trying her best to cope and move on while simultaneously helping everyone else do the same. She refused offers of therapy or group counseling. She declined progressive medications that most of her friends had turned to. She just kept to herself.

It wasn't hindering her, at the very least. She had gotten a wonderful job in the Muggle Relations Department, which Arthur Weasley was now the director of. And in just a few months of hard work she held his previously unoccupied position as Head of the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. It wasn't a prestigious job, but Hermione enjoyed it.

She was allowed more free reign; she could go out into the field instead of being confined to an office all day, she had several daily dealings in Diagon and Knockturn Alley, and she could impress her bosses and colleagues by removing dangerous curses placed on muggle items on her own.

Her favorite part of the job, however, was when she would take consultation calls and go to magical homes to help the families integrate Muggle technology into their homes. Despite mostly having to explain electricity and coffee makers, she did enjoy seeing wizards faces light up when shown Muggle vehicles. They took to them as quickly as they did to broomsticks as children. And witches are always boggled by Muggle clothing and perfume.

When Muggleborns step into the wizarding world they are filled with awe and curiosity. Hermione has found that the reverse is much the same. Wizards are finally seeing what Muggles have to offer and they are beginning to accept it and acclimate to it.

And Hermione, despite only being twenty years old, had made quite a name for herself and was well on her way up the proverbial ladder inside of the Ministry. It was quite a win for her Muggleborn and youthful status.

She felt content. Maybe not necessarily happy, but that would come, she had told herself. The war and loss was still too fresh for her to feel more than just content. She was fine, at the moment. Soon she'd be able to move past everything and embrace life to its fullest.

Or so she hoped.

Releasing a deep, morning sigh, she grabbed a pencil skirt and white blouse from her drawers and went to the bathroom down the hall to get ready before breakfast. She usually tried to have a meal ready or started by the time Harry woke up and came downstairs.

He had to embrace early mornings as well now that he had officially joined the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Just graduated from the academy two months ago, he's one of seven Junior Aurors but just like Hermione, his superiors have high expectations for him. Being the Boy Who Lived Twice helps, she often teased.

The two of them had been living together since they made the decision to forgo their seventh year. And it had just been the two of them. Ron had remained at the Burrow before traveling to Romania to help his older brother Charlie with dragons. Apparently being on the back of one hadn't scared him away from them. If anything, Hermione thought it had only endeared them to him more.

Ginny had wanted to stay with Harry, thinking now that the war was over and all threats of death were out of the way, the two could finally pursue a relationship. But Harry had declined. It had been shocking, to say the least. He hadn't given her more of a reason other than that they weren't as compatible as he had once thought and preferred to have it just be him and Hermione.

It was reminiscent of them being on the run together at the very least. Well, less sadness and anxiety, but they still had the same synch going on. They were both happy with the other and the easy comradery. Harry never failed to cheer her up and he appreciated her ability to tell when he needed someone and needed space.

But his new job kept the focus of his attention now. He now came home excited to tell her about his day and how he did something to impress his bosses. The two friends never failed to attempt to one up each other over dinner, sparking a gentle rivalry that both enjoyed.

Most adults thought the two young adults would get lonely living by themselves in the large townhouse, but it was far from the truth. They allowed visitors, keeping their Floo Network open, and normally their school friends or Order members would drop by on a weekly basis at different intervals. Besides that, both preferred to have their own down time and when they didn't, they had each other. It was enough for now.

Whenever they had days off, they spent most of their time redecorating the once decimated and gothic themed house. Since it was legally Harry's now, they could do whatever they wanted with it. Both agreed that lighter colors were a must have.

Even now, inside of a warm shower, Hermione's brain still went from work to how she could make the living, dining, and kitchen areas into more of an open floor plan without causing structural damage. Harry had agreed that they would do this the Muggle way. It gave them more time to spend on the project and if they ever got tired, they could always revert back to magic.

Stepping out of the shower, she quickly dressed, somehow managed to pull her wild mane that she often debated calling hair into a tight ponytail, and applied minimalist makeup. Just enough to make her look less tired and drained. She told herself she just needed more sun, more food, and more sleep. She'd be fine after that.

Toeing into her flats, she left the bathroom and went downstairs to the kitchen, debating on whether or not to make pancakes or French toast. She figured since it was Monday, Harry would want his favorite to start the week. Pancakes it was.

She set to making them and heard the telltale signs that her housemate was awake by the sound of running water from high above her. Good, she figured. Breakfast was almost ready anyways. Putting the cakes on a plate, she set the table around them and on a last thought, turned the coffee maker on. She preferred tea in the morning but Harry often appreciated a quick cup or two. It kept him more alert, he told her.

She wouldn't know, she only used coffee to pull all-nighters.

As she finished up, she heard a clicking sound come from the window above the sink. Drying her hands on dish towel, she unlatched the door and let in the small herd of owls. Paying a knut for the Daily Prophet, that owl swiftly left, leaving only two others; Hermes, Harry's new Horned owl, and an unfamiliar barn owl.

Taking the letter addressed to her friend from Hermes, she directed the youngling to his food bowl where he perched, happily munching away on his treats. Looking at the nervous barn owl, she gently inspected its mangled leg that had string tied so tightly that it was crushing the poor thing. The string had a thin piece of parchment attached to it, but she didn't pay it any mind as she cut the string and let it, along with the paper, float onto the table. She set to healing the poor animal's leg before setting it next to Hermes to enjoy a good meal.

"Why won't you let me lodge a complaint about this, Mione?" She looked up to see her best friend standing in the doorway, concern etched into his emerald eyes. "It's been weeks."

Picking up the piece of parchment that had fallen onto the table, she flipped it open and stared at the vague message, _"I want you,"_ before wordlessly incinerating it.

"They'll go away when they realize they aren't eliciting the response they want," she decided flippantly. Not concerned in the slightest about the short, never addressed messages she had been getting since August. The only tell that it was the same person was that every bird was injured in some way or another. Either from being caught to be used as a messenger or what had happened to this one today. Whoever it was used them like slaves with no regard for their safety or comfort.

Harry was convinced it was someone dangerous. Hermione just figured her new celebrity status attracted even the strangest individuals. Whoever it was has never approached her, never bothered her past these letters, and injuring the owls was the only problem the young witch had with the person.

His, or hers, notes weren't even threatening. They were just creepy with bizarre romantic undertones. Her friend might see them as stalkerish and declarations of harm, but Hermione just saw them as unwelcomed. And she resolved that if they went unanswered with no response from her whatsoever, then they would eventually cease.

"I hope you know what you're doing…" Harry muttered as he sat down across from her.

"When don't I?" She replied airily, causing a knowing smirk to reappear on her friend's face.

"Oh, I don't know. Sometimes you can miss what's right in front of you though," he mumbled with a grin into his food.

"What was that Harry Potter?" She questioned, sticking her fork at him in a failed attempt to be threatening. He scoffed at her attempt before they both ended up falling into a mess of chuckles.

"Nothing, nothing. Just be careful, alright? We both have to go out into the real world today."

"They're sending you into the field today?" She asked, curious about what his new secret assignment was. He hadn't even been told yet, today was to be his debriefing. She was just going into Diagon Alley today. Not nearly as exciting.

"Supposedly. I'm just ready to finally know what all this hush hush nonsense has been about. I had lunch with Neville last week and he thought it had something to do with suspected breakout attempts at Azkaban."

"What do you think it is?"

Harry looked solemn for a moment before he gave her a slightly nervous look, "We'll talk about it tonight when I get back. I have my theories but I want to know the truth first."

"Alright," she conceded. She knew Harry would end up telling her regardless of when he actually did it. He wasn't good at lying either, especially not to her. They were just too close. And held too much love for the other.

But she couldn't see whatever it was that he was worried about being as bad as he seemed to believe it was.

She'd come to see just how very wrong she was though.

Later that afternoon, to be precise.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Two_** _– Diagon Alley – 12:25pm_

Hermione spent an abnormal amount of time in the bustling streets of the wizarding shopping street. Besides helping shopkeepers add Muggle inventory to their selections, she also had to make sure that no one was misusing any of the products.

Meaning she had to conduct weekly random searches in both Diagon _and_ Knockturn Alley. The darkened area where the deranged hang out still gave her the creeps but she never feared for her life. The Death Eaters, along with their master, were long gone. Either locked away in Azkaban or far away from England.

She didn't know the specifics and frankly didn't care. As long as they weren't walking among regular citizens, she could care less. Perhaps it was foolish of her to be so nonchalant about them, but honestly, she just wanted to forget it all. And out of sight, out of mind was a great phrase to use in these instances.

Walking down the long street, she looked on at the familiar shops from when she was eleven years old. It brought back happy, nostalgic feelings. She thought of happier times, before the war caught up with them all and ruined their innocence.

She stopped outside the rundown and empty Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. After Fred had died, George lost whatever spark he had and shut himself off from the world. He rarely left the Burrow and when he did, it was only to get belligerently drunk. The family thought he would grieve and then move on… but it'll have been six months in a week.

He refused therapy and whatever medication Molly had been attempting to sneak into his food hadn't worked either. Hermione sometimes wondered if he would ever be completely healed from losing his other half.

Other people had been negatively affected as well. Neville did both counseling and medication to cope with the torture he had experienced at the hands of the Carrow twins while they were at Hogwarts. Lavender had therapy for her contracted lycanthropy, curtesy of Greyback. Seamus needed Dreamless Sleep to get the images of the dismembered and desecrated Creevy brothers out of his head.

It really seemed like no one had walked out of that final battle unscathed. Even Luna attended group therapy to discuss some of the images that still bother her. Granted, she never seemed as affected as the others, but Hermione knew that if she was in therapy, they scared her.

As she breezed through the rest of the shops she had to check, her mind continuously wandered back to what Harry had told her this morning. Something big was happening in his department and no one but the higher ups new what it was about. She had half a mind to meet with Kingsley for dinner and just confront the head man himself but she wouldn't abuse their friendship like that.

Finishing up with the last shop, she checked the box on her notepad and left the building, heading towards the area where apparation was allowed. After the war, many changes had been made in certain wizarding areas. One of which was the new Anti-Apparation wards surrounding the two alleys.

Whatever was happening that had everyone so worked up, the Ministry would tell them when they were ready. In the meantime, she just had to wait until tonight to find out from Harry.

Chuckling at the thought of having to pull it out of him like old times sake, she almost missed the turn she had to take to her Apparation point. But in the process of attempting to correct her miscalculation, she ran headlong into another person.

Stumbling backwards, a hand lurched out and helped to steady her. She heard a masculine voice with a teasing lilt say to her, "Sorry 'bout that. Had my head up in the clouds for a moment. Didn't hurt you, did I?"

Opening her eyes, she focused on the fairly handsome man in front of her. He had long brown hair that he kept just above his shoulders. His eyes were a striking blue and his clean shaven smile was friendly enough. But she had the oddest feeling that she had seen him before.

"Oh, no. I'm fine. I'm afraid I wasn't watching where I was going either," she said with a small chuckle. The man flashed her a toothy grin before his eyes sparkled in recognition.

"Many apologies, Miss Granger. I didn't even recognize you there for a minute." Despite not recalling who he was, Hermione knew it was easy for people to know her nowadays. She still had something of a celebrity status.

"Quite alright. But, I was just leaving to get back to work, you see-"

She had been in the process of excusing herself when a deep voice called out from the end of the alley.

"Rabastan."

Hermione's head swiveled to the right as she spotted a dark figure standing in the middle of the empty space. Her heart began to beat at a frantic pace. If the other man had seemed mildly familiar, this one was like a bucket of ice water being poured over her head.

Dark, messy brown hair, penetrating black eyes, an intense, haughty stare, large, intimidating frame, an aura surrounding him that screamed danger throughout all of Hermione's senses.

Antonin Dolohov.

The last time she had seen him had been at some point on the battlefield. She would never forget the sight of the man who had almost successfully killed her on two separate occasions. She felt herself rooted in place as his eyes roved over her for a moment before turning back to the man next to her.

"Ah, sorry Antonin. Got a bit caught up for a moment," he moved to walk down the alleyway but not before turning to look back at the shocked brunette. He gave her a conspiratory wink and a grin, "Nice seeing you again, Miss Granger. But we'll have to catch up some other time."

And then he was gone. They both were.

She knew she should have called the Aurors, or Harry at the least. But it was like her brain had stopped functioning properly. She couldn't process what had just happened. Two notorious Death Eaters had just appeared in front of her on a Monday afternoon in a back alley adjoining wizarding London's hottest shopping center.

How was it even possible?

She went back to work, hoping that those few minutes had only been a figment of her imagination and that she was just experiencing some new, late form of PTSD. There was no way. No conceivable way that the Ministry knew Antonin Dolohov and Rabastan Lestrange were just waltzing around London and not doing anything about it.

She finished the rest of her day in contemplative silence. No one around her bothered her, having learned about her changing moods, and she was able to leave on time for once with zero distractions around her.

Arriving back at Grimmauld Place, she put her cloak on the rack and then went straight for the kitchen, determined to wait until Harry got home. She'd run her story by him and see what he thinks. If she's crazy, she'll have him take her to St. Mungos for an evaluation. If she's not… Well, then he had some explaining to do.

He walked in less than half an hour after she did, looking almost equally in thought as she had. When he spotted her, he knew that something was wrong. She would usually be in the middle of making dinner, not just sitting at the kitchen table staring at him.

He took the seat in front of her slowly and clasped his hands together on the table. He gave her a concerned look before asking her, "Everything alright, Mione?"

"You tell me, Harry. Because I'm almost certain that whatever you were told earlier today has something to do with who I saw today," she watched as his eyes widened a fraction. _Got him._

"Who? Who did you see today?" He looked a bit frantic and Hermione _had_ to admit that it was pretty unlikely that she was crazy.

"Dolohov and Lestrange. Inside the wards of Diagon Alley, ironically enough."

"Hermione!" Her friend admonished. "Why didn't you call the Aurors? Why didn't you call _me_?"

"Because I couldn't even believe that the man who got the closest to killing me and the brother-in-law of that crazy bitch were anywhere near England, let alone _directly in front of me_!"

Harry went silent for a moment as the two looked at one another. "I just found out about it today…"

"What did you find out about?"

He exhaled raggedly, "A lot of the Death Eaters who didn't die in the final battle weren't captured like the Ministry made it out to be. The biggest names that are in Azkaban are Rodolphus Lestrange, the Carrows, and Thicknesse. A few lesser known Death Eaters, some Snatchers, and other smaller supporters were trialed but as for the others… They're in the wind."

He paused for a moment as his features turned solemn, "The Ministry hadn't been worried, at first. All of those who escaped left the country. But now… They're returning for some reason. People sighted Yaxley in Bristol, Avery was seen near Belfast, and Selwyn was picked up in Cornwall. They keep getting closer and closer and now you've seen two of the worst in wizarding London…"

"It's not looking good, Hermione," he spoke dejectedly.

"Because this is going to freak out a lot of people?" She offered.

"Because we don't know why they're coming back. What's their master plan? Are they going to try to regroup and attack again? The Ministry just doesn't know. And those we've caught, aren't talking. They keep coming up with lousy excuses like they were just trying to talk to their wives or wanted something from their abandoned manors."

"Has the Department tried Veritaserum?" That would be Hermione's go to. Truth serums exist for a reason.

"They have. But either they're immune to it or someone's slipping them the antidote before we bring them in for questioning. The higher ups are looking into the history of everyone in the department but haven't found any discrepancies. Everyone appears to be clean."

"There has to be a leak. They wouldn't be able to beat the serum if there wasn't…" She thought aloud. But Harry agreed with her.

"Promise me something," he added, a serious tone hitched into his voice. "Be careful while you're out there. If they can get into Diagon Alley without any problems… They could be anywhere."

"I know how to protect myself, Harry," she glowered at him.

"I know, I know," he threw up his hands in defense. "I'm just saying, it's really not safe right now. And I don't even want you to be in a situation where you'll have to protect yourself."

Hermione was silent for a moment. "Is it really as bad as you're making it out to be?"

He nodded slowly, "I think so. It's why no one has been talking about it. We only just got out of the war and now we've got this new threat… No one knows what to do or really how to even handle it."

She reached out to pat his hand in support, "You'll figure it out. And it'll be over before anyone else even knows about it."

He smiled weakly before placing his hand over top of hers, "I hope so. I really do, Mione…"

They ordered takeout for dinner, both too mentally exhausted to cook anything. Hermione's head was still spinning as she got ready for bed. The image of Dolohov's figure imprinted on her mind as she attempted to fall asleep.

But for the first time in weeks, she would be plagued with nightmares.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Three_** _– Grimmauld Place – 4:54am_

 _She was running._

 _The smoky orbs organized on the shelves seem to all clash together as she rushed past them. She was being chased, that much she was certain of. She could hear heavy footfalls behind her, getting closer and closer._

 _Adrenaline was pumping through her small body as she turned down a different section. She didn't know which, they all began to look the same. She just wanted to get away from whatever or whoever was behind her and gaining._

 _She suddenly stumbled into an office where Harry was casting a Stunner on a hooded figure. She wasn't moving though, not even as a different figure spun her around and she came face to face with a silver mask and intense, almost manic dark eyes._

 _She tried to scream, for Harry, for anyone really. But no sound came out and the figure in front of her smiled horribly as he raised his arm and a curse hit her straight in the chest…_

"Hermione!"

She sat straight up in bed as her voice caught in her throat and the masked man disappeared and was replaced by the concerned face of her best friend.

"Harry…" She gasped out. "I-I'm sorry… Did I wake you?"

"Don't worry about that," he said forcefully. "I thought you said your nightmares had stopped?"

"They had…" She said uncertainly. It had been weeks since her last nightmare. She had thought that her mind had healed enough to move on. But… "Yesterday," she groaned out. "Seeing those two again must have triggered them."

"Yeah, you're probably right," he agreed, sitting down on the edge of her bed. "What was it about this time?"

"Department of Mysteries," she muttered, rubbing the spot on her chest that had been hit by Dolohov's curse. She still had a thin scar as proof of the incident.

"Oh…" He whispered, going back into his own thoughts for a moment. She knew he blamed himself for that, along with Sirius' death. She's already tried to talk him out of it but that was one that she had never been successful at.

"Do you want me to stay?" He asked after a few minutes of silence had passed by.

"If you want," she conceded. And so he did. Her bed was plenty big enough for the both of them anyways. They had started sharing a bed after Ron had left them in the middle of the Horcrux hunt and now it never felt awkward between them. The comfort and safety the other provided was just too needed for them to feel anything but appreciation.

"Hermione," she heard him whisper to her in the dark.

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry…" He was talking about the Department of Mysteries again. Turning onto her side, she met his glistening green eyes and pulled him into a strong embrace, letting him sob unabashedly into her clothed shoulder.

Sometimes they both just needed the other to understand. Not always with words. Just with being there. That was something Ginny and Ron had never been able to understand about the two. And that was why their tentative relationships had ultimately failed.

The two fell asleep soon after, Harry's tears having dried on his own Quidditch jersey that she had on as night cloths.

She woke up before him a few hours later. Leaving him in the bed, she went to get ready before heading downstairs to make breakfast. When she walked into the room, the window was already opened and three owls were sitting on the table.

A knut for the newspaper, some treats for Hermes, and then a quick appraisal of the third one. There didn't seem to be anything wrong with it. But it had the same type of parchment that she usually expected from her creepy admirer.

Taking the note, she opened it and looked down at the different red words spelling out, "You're delicious." There were red splotches on the note as well and she had the sinking suspicion that it might actually be written with blood. Incinerating the note before Harry came down, she resolved to keep it to herself.

It could just be a joke, she told herself. This person's sick idea of trying to gain a response from her. She wasn't going to bring it to light. She would just continue to ignore it like she always had. It was what she did best, after all.

The rest of the week passed by and she was beginning to recognize her mistake of choosing to ignore the growing problem with her fan.

Wednesday's gift had been normal enough; just some wildflowers. But they were native to England, which meant that whoever it was, was also in England. Thursday's had been another bloody note telling her that " _He would wait for her_." Friday's was what had concerned her. It had been a small box this time. But inside of the box had been a lock of dark brown hair.

She didn't think it could be hers… Was it his? She thought about telling Harry and having him test it at his Department but… He would only freak out about it. And he was stressed enough with trying to find the returning Death Eaters. He didn't need to worry about some freak who was growing more confident with his gifts.

By the time it was Saturday, the note she had gotten that morning was the stereotypical inked parchment note. Nothing more. She had acknowledged that she was right. Ignoring whoever it was had been her best choice. Maybe they were realizing that they wouldn't get anywhere with her and would leave it alone soon.

She could only hope that was the case.

She spent the day in celebration by continuing her and Harry's redecoration of their home. They focused on the kitchen for a little while before moving to the living area. They were preparing to knock the wall in between the two rooms down. They wouldn't get to it this weekend but hopefully they would be ready to do it next week.

They also painted a bit more. Mostly their individual bathrooms and some of the hallway. They were actually very productive for once. Even though Harry looked dead on his feet he still insisted on helping her as much as he could.

And by Sunday, they worked the entire afternoon before stopping a little while before dinner. They had been invited to another Weasley get together and were both expected to attend. Hermione didn't mind seeing Mr. Weasley, Bill and his family, or even George, depressed as he was.

But she hated watching Mrs. Weasley and Ginny attempt to get the younger girl back together with Harry. He always looked so uncomfortable and she would often have to figure up excuses for them to leave early so he could get a reprieve from their constant badgering.

Sometimes she just wanted to tell the two women that the two of them were now an item so they would leave him alone.

Harry always told her that he didn't mind though, so she left it alone. She figured that he would say something if it became too much. And for now, if he said he was fine, he was fine.

They left a little before 5pm and Flooed straight into the Burrow. Mr. Weasley was the first to greet them as they entered the dining room.

"Hermione, Harry! Good to see you both."

"Mr. Weasley, I just saw you two days ago," she reminded him and he laughed jovially as she took the seat next to him, Harry going past her to take the empty one of her right.

"That was in the work place, Hermione. You know it's much easier to be friendly with one another in a more personal setting."

"Like the work place stops you from being socialable," she snorted. It was common knowledge that the Muggle Relations Department was the most relaxed because their boss, Arthur Weasley, was one of the nicest and most understanding men around.

"Don't go spreading rumors, my dear. They'll never leave me alone at my next corporate meeting," he said with a good natured smile. She rolled her eyes as the three of them chuckled fondly at the thought.

"Oh! Harry, Hermione, we didn't even hear you come in," the matronly voice of Mrs. Weasley said from across the room. She came bustling in from the kitchen with food being levitated in front of her. She placed it all onto the table before coming to greet the two of them.

"How have you dearies been?"

"Just fine, Mrs. Weasley. Mione and I spent the past few hours doing more work on Grimmauld Place. It's really starting to come together," Harry said proudly. She knew he was glad that the home was actually becoming such.

But Mrs. Weasley only tsked at them, "I still don't understand why you both don't just move in here. We've got plenty of room now with Arthur's new job bringing in more money."

"That's alright, Mione and I are comfortable where we are right now," he said with a smile in her direction. She returned it and missed the way the older witch had narrowed her eyes at the two of them. When they looked back at her, she was her normal smiling self.

"I'm sure I'll convince you sooner or later," she promised before heading back into the kitchen.

"Sorry about Molly, she's just wanted to keep everybody close since the war," Mr. Weasley said in an apologetic tone. "She's gone bonkers with Ron and Charlie both in Romania and Percy gone to the Americas to study ancient artefacts."

"It's fine," Hermione said. That wasn't entirely true, but she didn't want to start anything.

"Oh, hullo Harry. I didn't hear you come in," the youngest Weasley said as she came into the dining room, followed closely by a despondent looking George.

Harry didn't respond but Ginny sat directly across from him anyways, continuing to talk to him about her seventh year and how she misses seeing him at Hogwarts all the time and who the new professors were and how great it was that she was allowed to come home for the weekends.

"Say, Hermione," Harry said suddenly, interrupting his ex-girlfriend. "You mentioned wanting to tell me about the new job you have tomorrow. You were going to another wizarding home, right?"

She knew he was trying to get out of talking to Ginny and since she was such a great friend, she would help him. Besides, she did enjoy talking about her job.

"Mhmm. The Pearson's are switching onto an electrical grid and need someone to observe that they're having it done correctly. And then, of course, they'll have more questions once it's all said and done with," she explained, already picturing the types of ridiculous comments she'll hear. Wizards were all the same when it came to Muggle technology. Even Mr. Weasley still had his moments.

"How long do you think you'll be there?" He asked innocently, but she knew that he knew she would be home before dinner. He was just trying to avoid talking to Ginny until dinner was ready.

"Oh, I don't know. It shouldn't take me longer than a few hours at most. I should be back in time to start dinner," she pretended to mull over her words as Harry smiled gratefully at her. Finally, Mrs. Weasley offered a reprieve as she brought the rest of the food out. Bill and his heavily pregnant wife, Fleur, came in soon after.

"Alright everyone. Dig in!" She announced. And they did just that. While Hermione was a decent enough cook, she still wasn't at the exact caliber of the Weasley matriarch. Harry told her she was improving but he had been fed scraps for the first eleven years of his life. She didn't exactly trust his opinion in this case.

When the meal was winding down, Hermione politely engaged in a bit of side conversation as dessert was brought out. She vowed that as soon as that was over with, she'd make their excuses so Harry didn't get too bombarded tonight.

Alas, she was too late.

"Now, Harry dear, why can't Ginny stay with you two over the holidays? Surely you could use the company!" _Here we go…_

"Oh, well, Mione and I appreciate the offer but we've decided to have a quiet holiday this year. Just the two of us for as long as we can manage. It'll also give us more time to fix up the house," Harry explained with a nervous edge to his voice. Only Hermione seemed to understand that it was because he really didn't want his ex living with the two of them.

"Come now! Ginny could help you both. Three sets of hands are better than two," the older witch persisted. Like she always did, Hermione internally sighed. It was almost always the same script. You'll get lonely, you need help, there's plenty of room.

"It's really alright. We like doing it by ourselves."

And Hermione's favorite, "But Harry, don't think that it's a little inappropriate for you and Hermione to be… alone so often in that house?"

Harry shook his head, "Not at all. We were alone for those few months in the woods and that was equally as fine."

 _Oooh_ , her best friend went for a low blow. Mrs. Weasley hated being reminded that her youngest boy had left his friends in the woods to fend for themselves. She always tried using the locket excuse, but the locket didn't give false feelings, it just amplified the negative ones that were already there. Which meant Ron had wanted to leave the entire time. The locket just pushed him actually do it.

And it was still slightly unforgivable. At least to Hermione it was. Harry had seemingly moved past it, but when he had moved back into Grimmauld Place, it wasn't Ron he had asked to live with him. It was her.

Granted, she hadn't been able to restore her parents' memories when she and Harry had gone to Australia to attempt it, and technically had nowhere else to go; but he still had only asked her. No one else.

"Well, we've both got work early in the morning. It's been a pleasure as always," she said, standing from her chair. The two of them needed to leave now before some sort of row was started. She said goodbye to everything Weasley, kissing George on his cheek which got her a small smile, and then she and Harry Flooed back to Grimmauld.

Harry let out a deep exhale as soon as he stepped onto the carpet. "Well… that was…"

"Annoying?"

"I was going to say typical, but I think I prefer your explanation," he grinned and the two fell into soft laughter before walking up to their respective rooms.

They really did have busy days tomorrow.


	4. Chapter 4

**_Four_** _– Pearson Home – 2:43pm_

"Yes, ma'am. It'll flicker for a bit before the lightbulbs settle," Hermione explained to the woman for what felt like the thirtieth time. She loved showing wizards Muggle technology but she had to be something of a saint to deal with all of these questions.

"It makes the rooms look much brighter," the older witch commented as she walked through the illuminated hallway. "I do believe that I prefer it to lanterns, Miss Granger."

A wide smile crossed the brunette's face, "I'm so glad, Mrs. Pearson. It's quite a step but I'm sure you'll adjust and come to find it as normal as the carpets before too long."

The pretty blonde witch laughed heartily as she returned the smile, "Oh, I'm sure. William is already enamored by just the switch alone. He keeps telling me it was the best decision he's ever made, despite it being _my_ idea."

"I'm sure the stipulation left his mind the moment he witnessed it for himself," Hermione jested. She loved being able to talk so freely with different witches and wizards. It's why she loved being in the field for her job. She could meet people and talk to them directly. She could listen to their opinions and answer questions. And she got to see the looks on their faces which made everything she does utterly worthwhile.

"Most definitely," she said as her husband came back into the room. Hermione had met Will Pearson from a colleague at the Ministry and he had approached her weeks ago about his wife's plan to integrate to an electrical grid. _Modern_ , he had groaned while explaining the situation to her. _Modern and chic, she called it. Please, Miss Granger, just tell me how expensive it'll be._

Now he looked like a kid in a candy shop.

"Did you see the chandelier, Moira? They've even put electricity in that! It looks absolutely stunning. I can't wait to see how the Wilkes react to that sight!"

"I'm sure we'll be the envy of the neighborhood, darling," Mrs. Pearson replied with a roll of her eyes and exasperated laugh at her husband's expense. They were still a relatively young couple, but they appeared happy. Especially now that they had gone through this huge change together.

"Well, let's go look upstairs and see what they've done there," Hermione offered and the two nodded before following her up the spiral staircase.

"It looks just as nice up here," Mrs. Pearson commented as reached the top.

"Let's check my study, dear. I want to see how good it looks now with a desk lamk," Mr. Pearson announced happily as he beelined for the door to his office.

"Desk lamp, sir," she reminded him. He nodded cheerfully as he walked into the door he was waiting to see. With knowing looks shared between the two witches, they followed him into the spacious room occupied with bookshelves, antiques, heirlooms, a huge wardrobe, and the man's desk.

He was currently flicking the knob of the lamp on and off at rapid speed. "I've never seen anything like it! Is it always this much fun, Miss Granger?"

"To someone who didn't grow up with it, yes, I suppose so," she replied breezily. She often felt the same way about magic and wizarding tools. Not to quite the same degree but similarly.

The man continued to gush about the advantages of having electricity for a bit. They stood at the bar, also conveniently located in his office, and continued to discuss the changes and what they would come to expect. Especially when she mentioned that they would more than likely break a few bulbs when they went to instinctually light the candles in the room that were no longer there.

Hermione had a little bit of wine that they had offered and went to grab it as she placed her bag on the table, along with her cell phone and Ministry badge. She took a quick sip as she listened to the couple discuss a few more questions amongst themselves.

Just as she was debating on whether she should ask if they were through so she could perhaps leave early, a shrill ringing sounded throughout the entire home. Hermione placed her half empty wine glass onto the bar as she turned to Mr. Pearson for answers.

The color had drained from his face as he muttered, "The wards. I set them up during the war incase our home was ever targeted by Death Eaters. They only react to Dark magic…"

Dangerous wizards were in the home, that was all the information Hermione needed to know. "I'll call the Aurors, you two go and hide."

"No, no, we'll all hide," Mr. Pearson insisted. Grabbing Hermione by her arm, he hauled her across the floor and pushed her inside of the wardrobe. "Just wait here Miss Granger. I'll contact the Aurors and dispatch these thugs."

He shut the door in her face and when she tried the handle, it wouldn't budge. Worse yet, her wand was in her bag on the bar. Releasing a frustrated sigh, she looked through the peephole and tried to see what was going on. She couldn't hear anything at first expect low, frantic voices that must have belonged to the owners of the home.

They were getting farther away which meant that they were leaving the room. Hermione strained to see anything through the tiny hole but just as she caught a glimpse of Mrs. Pearson dark blonde hair, a loud crash was heard as the door slammed open.

Hermione had flopped backwards into a pair of boots at the unexpected sound. Struggling to regain her previous position, her heart dropped when she heard screaming coming from the woman she had just spent the past few hours with.

"Please! _Please_! Let us go! We didn't do anything! We'll give you whatever you want! Just don't _hurt_ us!"

Another lighter thumping sound was heard and Hermione pressed her face back up against the door, struggling to find out what was going on. She saw the silenced form of Mrs. Pearson sitting on the floor directly in front of her view. The woman's mouth was opening and closing at a rapid pace but no sound was coming out. Tears were streaming down her face as she looked back and forth between two figures that Hermione couldn't yet see.

One of them moved a bit closer to the woman and all Hermione could see was long dark hair. Until she heard Mr. Pearson yell, "You stay away from her! Don't touch her!"

A laugh sounded throughout the space, it was mocking but not entirely cruel. But then she heard a voice, an oddly familiar voice, "Now, why would I want a two cent slag like her? I'm a classy man Pearson, nothing like you're breed of filth."

It was Rabastan Lestrange. She remembered the voice from last week. How could she forget it? The masculine voice with a touch of humor naturally set into it. Well, this certainly wasn't a funny situation. Because if two of them were here, then the man with Lestrange had to be…

"Isn't that right, Antonin? I'm much better than this lout."

She could hear someone exhale in annoyance as another figure stepped closer to her. It was the large form of Dolohov standing at the bar. He grabbed a bottle of firewhiskey and poured two glasses before pausing as he looked down at the table.

 _Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit._

Her bag, her phone, and her badge were all sitting there, plain as day. As was her unemptied glass of wine accompanied by Mrs. Pearson's glass and Mr. Pearson's shot of whiskey.

She watched the man's head tilt slightly as his hand flipped open her badge. He'd see her name, he'd see her face, and he now knew that she was still in the house. She felt completely and utterly _fucked_.

"Antonin," Lestrange repeated in a singsong voice. "Are we gonna do this or what?"

The man's dark eyes left Hermione's credentials as he turned to look at the wardrobe. It was almost like their eyes met and Hermione backed away from the hole, digging her nails into her palms and prepared herself for the inevitable. He would try to kill her again. She just knew it.

But a few moments passed by and nothing had happened. She slowly crept down to look back out of the peephole but found that she couldn't see anything. There was just blackness. But… there was light seeping it around it which meant that there was just something blocking the hole.

Then she realized that she couldn't hear anything, when before she had been able to hear Mr. Pearson's heavy breathing and Lestrange's taunting voice. There was nothing now…

She sat in the space for what felt like hours before she suddenly heard Lestrange's voice out of nowhere. "-better clean up job. Ah, well, they certainly won't care now," he added a breathy laugh at the end as Hermione scrambled to look back out of the hole.

She could see Lestrange's smiling face looking towards the space next to her. Turning slightly, she could just barely make out Dolohov's form as he wiped something off with a piece of cloth. Looking even closer… She saw that it was a knife. Those blotches on the cloth must have been blood stains…

 _Oh Merlin…_

She thought she was going to be sick. These two had just killed the Pearson's… And she hadn't done anything. She sat in the wardrobe and waited as they were probably tortured then murdered.

"Let's get out of here before anyone shows up. You got the necklace?" She heard an affirmative sound come from the man and at the sound of fading footfalls, she assumed that they had left…

But didn't Dolohov know that she was here? Why would he just leave her alone?

When the handle of the wardrobe gave as she tried it a second time, she hesitantly stepped out and looked around. She put a hand to her mouth as she saw the blood stains on the carpet. There were no bodies but it was evident that they had to be lifeless now; wherever they were…

She almost tripped over herself as she went to the bar and grabbed her cellphone, texting Harry her coordinates and a short message like her life depended on it. She looked down at her opened badge, her picture smiling up at her and shuddered before shutting it and throwing it into bag. She looked away from the stains on the floor and walked to the window, seeing the view of the front of the house.

But as she did, she looked down when she saw two moving figures in the front lawn. It was Lestrange and Dolohov as they left. She kept hoping that the Aurors would arrive now. Just pop right in front of the two murderers and take them away to Azkaban where they could rot for all she cared.

She saw them stop as the shorter male asked his partner something. Lestrange grabbed something out of the other man's hands and shoved it into his robes. As he did that, Hermione tried to see what exactly it was. Could it be the necklace he had said something about earlier?

Just as he was finished, she happened to look back at the taller male and froze in her place when she met his intense stare. He was looking directly at her; he knew she was here. But all he did was pull out his wand, grab Lestrange's arm, and apparate away.

The Aurors arrived not even a minute afterwards. Almost in the exact same spot the two Death Eaters had been in.

Hermione still stood in place, staring at the window at the empty space where Dolohov had been. Had he left her alone purely because Lestrange had been there? Had they been on a mission and didn't have time for distractions? Or was he just playing with her?

She ground her teeth together as Harry enveloped her into a hug and asked her repeatedly if she was alright.

She will be, she told him. She had to be. The war hadn't broken her and this sick man wouldn't have the pleasure either.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Five_** _– Grimmauld Place – 7:30am_

It had been a week since the Pearson's disappeared and the Ministry still wouldn't rule it a homicide.

Hermione hadn't actually _seen_ them be killed and no one could find their bodies. And obviously, no one had caught the two Death Eaters responsible so nothing was getting done. She had never felt more frustrated in her life.

Well… That wasn't exactly true.

She was becoming increasing bothered by her creepy admirer. After the incident at the Pearson's, whoever was sending her creepy letters stepped up their game and was now sending her gifts. Except one had been a vial of blood, a small bag of teeth, and a bone that looked like it came from a toe.

Each gift was randomly sent on different days in between the usual letters of vague romantic connotations written in what she was almost one hundred percent sure was blood and occasional bouquet of wildflowers.

But she knew the remains she was being sent were human… It was human teeth at the very least and not even baby teeth that could have fallen out naturally. She realized that she should probably tell Harry now… It was going too far and she wasn't able to handle it anymore. These 'gifts' were just becoming sadistic at this point and the Ministry needed to be made aware.

So she resolved to tell him as soon as he came downstairs.

Setting to make breakfast as a distraction, she mulled over how she'd respond when her friend inevitably became furious with her for waiting this long. She honestly didn't know why anymore. Before, she had just help the naïve assumption that they would stop. But obviously whoever her stalker was, he wasn't quitting anytime soon.

 _He…_ She hadn't been sure about the gender before and now she was suddenly convinced it was a man? Of course, because now the only face that came to mind when she pictured who could be sending her these disgusting gifts was the cold, dangerous features of Dolohov.

He would be angry that she hadn't died in the war and seeing her again… Maybe that's why the gifts would get worse afterwards. He'd see her and it would trigger something inside of his sick mind. The body parts that she was beginning to suspect were from the Pearson's… He was just playing with her. A demented game that he was currently winning.

She had even more trouble sleeping now; even with Harry in the room and keeping her company. She constantly felt sick to her stomach at the thought of what might have happened to the Pearson's in front of her that she had done nothing to prevent. Were they even dead? Or just captured and being tortured and Dolohov found the time to include some of the evidence in his daily show of obsession?

Hermione rubbed her palms over her eyes for a moment. It was going too far. She was telling Harry. Everything would be alright soon.

Putting breakfast on the table, she sat down with a strong cup of tea and sipped at it distractedly as she listened to Harry's lead feet thump around upstairs before hearing him come down the steps. _Let's just get this over with_ , she told herself.

"Morning, Mione," he greeted her sleepily. He really wasn't much of a morning person before coffee. So she waited until he had finished a full cup and most of his breakfast. Putting her own cup on the table, she met her friend's curious gaze. "What's up?"

"I have a problem."

He raised his brows and set his own cup on the table. "What kind of problem? Besides your stalker," he pointed out.

"It is the stalker," she admitted.

Harry nodded thoughtfully for a moment, "I've been wondering what's been going on. You always seemed so on edge in the morning for the past month or so but I thought it just had to do with learning that the Death Eaters were returning."

"It's partially that. But Harry…" She took a breath and just said it, "These 'gifts' are getting worse."

"What do you mean?" At his question, she banished their empty dishes to the sink and grabbed the wooden box she had been placing the more recent post in. She set it in front of him and he opened the top, looking inside at the contents with a growing sense of dread settling into his familiar features.

"Hermione that's…"

"Human remains. I know."

He looked up at her with wide eyes, "Why am I just now hearing about this? Whoever it was has been sending you these for days now."

"Dolohov," she whispered.

Harry paused and looked from her to the box. "You think Dolohov's responsible for this?"

Her curls bounced around her face as she nodded her head, "I do. He just… Every time I've seen him, the gifts have gotten worse. He's already tried to kill me twice now, so he's obviously become obsessed. He's dangerous and unhinged and insane, Harry. It has to be him."

"You don't think it could be Lestrange?"

She mulled his words over for a minute before shaking her head slowly, "No… He might be involved but these…" She waved her hand towards the box, "These are because Dolohov's playing some crazy game with me."

"I believe you, Mione. I just need to know as much about this and about Dolohov before I can present this to the department heads," he explained to her calmly, something she wasn't exactly expecting from her best friend.

"I wish you'd come into the office with me and tell them yourself…" He added as a second thought.

She snorted, "No offense Harry, but if they hadn't been able to catch these criminals yet, then I really don't expect anything different to happen just because I tell them that one of them is stalking me."

"Possibly stalking you."

She glared across the table and Harry met her gaze with a neutral expression, "You can't go jumping to conclusions. You could be so focused on believing that it's him that you could miss the actual perpetrator until it's too late."

Hermione breathed out a laugh, "I thought it was my job to be the voice of reason." But he was right. She didn't have any solid evidence yet. Harry needed to take the remains to his department and yet the labs run tests to find out if it's the Pearson's or someone else. Then she could get closer to the truth.

"And it's my job to protect you, Mione," Harry said as he reached across the table to take her hand. "It'll all be okay because I'm here for you. These Death Eaters and stalkers won't know what hit them when they find the Boy Who Lived as Auror Potter," he said with a smirk.

"Junior Auror," she said sarcastically and giggled when he rolled his eyes.

"Technicalities."

"So you'll run those tests for me?" She asked after a brief pause.

"Of course. But in return," he said with a touch of seriousness to his voice, "You be careful. I know you have to go out into the field tomorrow, right?"

"Mhmm. I have to go to Knockturn Alley to discuss that cursed toilet bowl brush."

Harry choked on his laughter, "I don't want to know. But just… take someone with you, okay? It'll make me feel better knowing that you won't be alone."

"Sanders is going with me. We always take a partner when we have business in that watering hole."

Harry wrinkled his nose, "Sanders is a Hufflepuff."

"So was Tonks but she was a damn good Auror, wasn't she?" Hermione countered, strangely protective of her older, quiet, almost ditzy colleague. He was a good listener and extremely friendly though. So she had liked him immediately.

But she missed the solemn expression her friend had adopted for a minute. "That reminds me… Are we going to see Teddy this weekend?"

"Sure. I'll set it up with Andromeda that we take him for those two days," she said with a smile, already picturing the toddler's excitement of spending the weekend with his favorite Hare and Mimi.

The young Lupin had been staying with his grandmother since his parents both died in the final battle. That was yet another thing she held against Dolohov. He had been the one to kill Remus. He was the reason Teddy Lupin would grow up without a father. Voldemort had already fallen but many of the Death Eaters had struck out with violence anyways. That was how they had lost Dennis, Remus, and Padma.

"Hermione?" She heard Harry interrupt her from her spiraling thoughts.

"Yeah?"

"Don't you have to leave for work?" He asked slowly, watching her carefully to see if she should even go to her office in the first place.

Looking at the clock, she jumped from her chair, "Shit! Yes. Sorry, we'll talk more tonight, yeah?"

"Yeah," he said with a bright smile. He kissed her cheek before she rushed from the room. She was in such a hurry that she missed the fondness in his eyes and the brief chuckle he gave accompanying a small head shake.


	6. Chapter 6

**_Six_** _– Knockturn Alley – 10:27am_

"No really Sanders, it's fine. I'm perfectly capable of asking questions without an escort," Hermione said into her mobile. She listened to her colleague's reply before cracking a small smile. "Thank you for the concern, but really, I'll be alright this one time."

"You just focus on getting better. Food poisoning isn't something to take lightly, especially since you can't take care of it with any potions," she informed him. He thanked her and apologized a few more times before she told him she had to go.

Closing the phone, she exhaled deeply and pinched the bridge of her nose. It figured that after promising Harry that she wouldn't go into Knockturn Alley alone, her partner would get horrible stomach pains after accidently ingesting raw shellfish, forcing her to go into the despot alone.

She thought about just Flooing back to the Ministry and asking Arthur if she could return to the assignment after Sanders was recuperated, but… The odds of seeing or running into anyone in the early hours of the afternoon just as all of the business' were opening seemed highly unlikely to Hermione.

Besides, she just had to get in, ask a few pointed questions to the owner of Borgins and Burke, and then get out. Nothing complicated, nothing that would take too long. She just needed information on a cursed bathroom object that was floating around out there.

Situating her cloak over top of her recognizable hair, she pulled it farther down so it covered her face as well. She really didn't want to attract attention to herself, so the more she blended in to the dark and murky surroundings, the better.

Stepping past the sign into the alley, she kept her pace slow, unhurried. She was just another equally creepy and dangerous person that had business in one of the shops. Just as she had predicted, she didn't pass many others. As the few that she did, paid her no mind. She wanted to cheer at her accomplishment, but she had business to finish first. Celebrations would have to come in the form of whiskey tonight.

Opening the door to the shop, she stepped inside and donned her air of superiority that she had similarly done when Polyjuiced as Bellatrix all those months ago. She held her back and shoulders straight, and walked like she owned the place. But she kept her head angled down, still not wanting to give away her identity.

"Can I help you today, miss?" The slimy voice of Mr. Borgins asked from behind the counter. She stood in front of it and attempted to disguise her voice a bit by making it seem raspier.

"You may. I need the whereabouts of a cursed item that I have heard has passed through your store recently."

"What item would that be?" He asked, leaning forward slightly. He was obviously trying to get a peek of her, but she wore this particular cloak for a reason. She wasn't looking for any attention.

"A filthy Muggle item, actually. Some sort of brush device. But I've heard the magic it possesses is quite… unique," somehow after doing these undercover operations so many times, it just became second nature to her to switch into a dark persona. She'd had plenty of role models at least.

"I may have heard of such an object," he told her cryptically. The silence that followed was slightly awkward as she tilted her head noticeably before asking,

"And?"

"And it'll cost you a pretty knut to find out where it is," so this was where they were. Haggling for information. She wanted to roll her eyes in exasperation. All of these shopkeepers in Knockturn were the same.

"Ten galleons seem like a worthy trade to loosen these lips. Show me what's under that cloak and I'll cut the price in half," she knew he was leering at her but paid him no mind.

"One galleon should suffice. I can always find information elsewhere," she told her, ignoring the bell above the door ringing as someone else entered the shop. She was just starting to get somewhere. He obviously knew and didn't want to tell her without some sort of payment.

"Then look elsewhere, madam. I ain't opening my trap for anything else than ten galleons."

She was about to suggest five when a voice appeared directly next to her, "Aw, come on Borgins, you old goat. Ladies should always get discounts."

Hermione froze and tensed as she immediately recognized the voice, yet again. This man needed to stop appearing when she really didn't want him to. She could only hope that he left his partner whenever you leave dangerous, dark wizards.

"Mr. Lestrange! A p-pleasure to see you again. Let me just clear this up and I'll be right with you-"

"What price did she offer you?" The man asked suddenly. Borgins froze as he looked between his two customers.

"A… galleon," he said slowly.

"Fair trade, really. You don't see much business since after the war, do ya?" _Wait_ … was Rabastan Lestrange, Death Eater, psychotic brother-in-law of Bellatrix Lestrange, _haggling_ for her?!

"I suppose it is…" Borgin replied, looking past them for a moment and swallowing harshly, fear beginning to show in his gaze. "One galleon it is then, miss."

Hermione went to grab a coin but she spotted a gloved hand sliding a gold coin across the counter for her. "A gentleman always pays," Lestrange told her with a wink in her direction. She watched him carefully before letting her cloak fall back into place. He had already recognized her once before, she really didn't need him doing it again.

"Thank you," she said in her quiet, raspy voice.

"Not a problem at all! Just remember the good will of Rabastan Octavius Lestrange and spread the word!" He boosted loudly and Hermione had to stifle the urge to groan. _What a bloody ponce_ , she thought as Borgins nodded his head in enthusiastic agreement before turning his attention back to Hermione.

"The item you're looking for was last held by Eric Ognell. I suspect he still has it in his possession as well." Hermione ran the name through her head a few times, making sure she remembered it. She could hand it off to the Aurors and they could search and seize any other dark artefacts the man had. She had probable cause now.

"Very good. Have a good day gentleman," she feigned, turning on her heel so that she could get out of there as quickly as possible. She only paused when she heard Lestrange's voice again.

"I've got a necklace to sell today, Borgins. Need at least 100 galleons for it," he said in a bored voice. But what caught Hermione's attention was the mention of the necklace. Wasn't that the very same one that he and Dolohov had been talking about after they murdered the Pearson's? The one Lestrange had stuffed into his robes as they had been leaving?

Hermione pictured the moment but the remembrance of intense black eyes caused her to shake the thoughts away. She needed to get out of here and tell her bosses and Harry about what had transpired. But as she looked up to find her way to the exit, she met the exact same pair of eyes she had just tried to forget about.

Dolohov was leaning against an old wooden desk, his arms crossed against his chest. His head was angled down and he was watching her with predatory intent. She felt her entire body tense up. This was it. This was the moment he attacked her.

But it never happened…

They held each other's gaze for what felt like forever before a low, tenor voice sounded in her ears, "It's dangerous for you to be wandering around here alone, _rebenok l'vitsa._ Run along now," his tongue rolled off the obvious Russian words like he could speak the language fluently. She remembered his file briefly; born in Moscow during the Cold War, moved to Britain sometime between then and attending Hogwarts.

But that was as far as her mind worked before she was flitting past him and out the door. His voice caused goosebumps to erupt on her flesh and she had felt her body begin to shake at the mere sight of him. She didn't think there would ever be a moment when Antonin Dolohov didn't completely terrify her. Not after what he had done. Not after what she suspected he was still currently doing.

She needed him gone. She needed the security that he would never hurt her or anyone else ever again.

And more importantly, she needed him out of her head.


	7. Chapter 7

**_Seven_** _– Grimmauld Place – 7:38am_

Saturday's were Hermione's day to sleep in. But on this particular one, she woke in a pool of her own sweat, sheets tangled around her legs. Another nightmare.

She was absolutely sick of the dread that sat in her stomach each morning because of these ridiculous dreams. They weren't even accurate to the events that had happened in her past. In her subconscious, Dolohov talks much more than he ever did in person. He taunts her and threatens her and while her mind still registers him as dangerous, it's not nearly as terrifying as his calm and silent persona.

She remembered the Department of Mysteries almost like it happened yesterday. The silent fury in his eyes as she silenced him. The concentration and satisfaction as she tried to scream when his curse hit her. He had _enjoyed_ hurting her. She had only been a sixteen-year-old schoolgirl and he had probably smiled as he struck her down.

In the moments where she pictures what had basically happened, she wakes screaming with the image of those pleased eyes burned into her mind. It takes her days to forget about them or to at least move on. And she hates it. She hates feeling weak and powerless to her mind's bloody reconstruction of past events. She hates having the scum who plagues her continue to do so in and out of reality.

She wants her peace of mind back.

But apparently that was too much to ask for on this particular morning. So she shoved herself out of bed and went in search of a cold shower to both wake herself up and clear her mind from the places it was currently inhabiting.

After getting dressed, she headed downstairs and was surprised to find her housemate already awake and sitting at the table with two cups of hot liquids on the table. She sat in front of the tea and took a tentative sip. It was just the way she liked it. Smiling inwardly, she noted that it had only taken him seven years to figure out how she preferred her tea.

"What are you doing up so early?" She asked conversationally. Harry had his elbows on the table and was staring blankly out the window. She had figured he was just lost in thought… until she spotted the small box and familiar piece of parchment in one of his hands.

"What is it now?" She groaned, hating that ever since her encounter with Dolohov and Lestrange earlier in the week, the 'gifts' were growing more gruesome again. She was thoroughly convinced it was Dolohov. Nothing Harry had tried to say could change her mind. There was no way that it was just a coincidence anymore.

He was stalking her and she knew it. She just had to figure out how to stop it now.

"It's a finger," Harry stated simply as he turned to face her. Worry showed in his eyes and she looked from the box to him. "The fourth one."

"So it's the ring finger?" She guessed. Dolohov had already sent the thumb, forefinger, and middle. She suspected the pinky would come after this one.

Harry nodded slightly, "Yeah… Bastard didn't even take off the rings before he cut."

"Then that's his mistake," Hermione told him, perking up a bit. "You can track rings. Find the maker and figure out who bought them. Or just ask someone who knew what rings Mrs. Pearson wore."

Her friend swallowed visibly before telling her, "Hermione… It's not the Pearsons'."

"What makes you so sure?" She asked in bewilderment, eyebrows raised.

"The blood tests came back," he informed her. "There wasn't a trace of magic anywhere."

"So Muggles? That still fits with the Death Eater motivation. They despise Muggles. It still stands to reason that it could be them," she insisted. Nothing her friend could say would change her mind. In her head, it was either Dolohov or Lestrange. But her money was on Dolohov.

"That's what Neville thinks too. He's been working on it with me." Hermione smiled at him. Neville had shocked everyone months ago when he had announced that he was going to Auror training with Harry but he had done it and was officially a Junior Auror as well.

Harry dropped the box on the table before standing from his seat. "I'm going to go pick up Teddy in an hour but I want to drop that off at the office beforehand. We'll get breakfast after I get back, yeah?"

"Sure," was her reply as he smiled and left the room, presumably to get his cloak.

Hermione's gaze fell on the plain black box sitting on top of the white paper. She pulled the note out from underneath of it and opened it.

" _I'll make you worthy to be mine."_ She repeated under her breath. Shaking her head, she dropped the parchment back onto the table. She'd never understand his motivation. Her logical mind couldn't decipher his delusions.

Maybe that was for the best.

Her eyes flicked back to the box and perhaps it was innate curiosity or her craving to know everything, she opened it as well. Looking down at the detached limb, she went from the habitually bitten fingernail to the cold flesh to the end where it looked as though the finger had been forcefully ripped from the woman's hand.

She could tell it was a woman because the two rings still attached were an engagement and wedding band. They complimented each other well, she saw. Whoever this woman's husband had been had fairly decent taste. There were just enough diamonds to make it look elegant and classy but not in an arrogant, I-have-money-and/or-a-rich-boyfriend sort of way.

Still curious about it, she pulled the rings off and looked on the inside of them for any engravings. The wedding ring had the initials, JLS and HWG, while the engagement ring had the phrase _, I love you more._

Hearing Harry's returning footsteps, she snapped out of the trance that had her staring intently at the rings and returned them to the box before closing it with a soft 'snap.'

"So, I'll be back in a little while," he told her as he entered the room.

She stood quickly from her chair and forced a smile onto her face, "I just remembered that I had some shopping I wanted to get done in Diagon Alley first. I think you'll probably beat me home. Rain check on breakfast?"

He looked a bit surprised for a moment and she hoped desperately that he would buy it. Finally, he smiled tentatively and nodded, "Yeah, sure. Be careful."

After promising that she would, she grabbed her own cloak and headed out. She stepped outside and apparated to the outside perimeter of the shopping district. But she didn't stop at any of the shops that she passed.

She needed to get to Knockturn Alley. Those rings… Her head was pounding with each step she took. All she could picture was the rings and the finger and the vials of blood and teeth and it took all of her willpower to not stop directly in the middle of the street and scream at the top of her lungs.

 _JLS and HWG…_

Jean Louise Smith and Henry William _Granger_ …

 _I love you more._

Her parents would _constantly_ repeat that phrase to each other.

This sadistic bastard had found her parents. Her parents that didn't even remember her. Her parents that weren't even technically her parents anymore since she failed to fix their memories four months ago.

He had somehow found them and had been sending her their remains for days.

She was going to Knockturn Alley to find Dolohov. She was going to find him and then she was going to kill him. Laws, Aurors, and the Ministry _be damned_. He was going to regret this sick obsession with her.

That was a promise.


	8. Chapter 8

**_Eight_** _– Abandoned Church – 10:54pm_

It had taken her all day, but she had finally found out where that bloody murderer was. Apparently Death Eaters were meeting in secret at this abandoned Catholic church in front of her. They were directly outside of Surrey, weirdly too close to London and the Ministry. To do or plan what, she didn't know. Hermione had to terrorize a few creeps and even hang one up by his toes until he caved and told her enough of what she wanted to know. Despite the tactics, it was worth it.

He was here. She just knew it.

She briefly thought about calling for Aurors but revenge and the need to know what had happened to her parents before killing this bastard outweighed her conscience. She would deal with any and all repercussions later. For now, this was between him and her.

Sneaking into the main section, she waited for a while, looking at all of the dusty mosaics and pews around her before heading down into the basement. She could feel her anxiety levels rising which each step she took down the stairs.

A few candles were lit, letting her know that someone had indeed been down here recently. She stepped off the last stone step and onto the basement floor. Looking around, there was nothing but tall shelves of old congregation records, creating an almost maze like scene. It appeared almost barren and empty until Hermione started to hear footsteps and hushed whispers coming from somewhere inside of it. She cast a quick Disillusion charm on herself before heading in.

There was nobody that she could visibly see as she passed through makeshift corridors made out of wood and boxes, but she could still hear the same sounds. After a few minutes, she paused against a shelf and tried to find out if she was any closer to the voices. Or at least a clue as to what they were talking about. But she practically jumped out of her skin when a loud crashing sound echoed around her and shouts started. For a moment, she thought perhaps the Aurors had stormed the meeting.

Trying to get out of the way of whatever was happening, she walked backward until she stumbled into something, knocking her to the ground. She prepared herself for the impact but it never happened. Something grasped her wrist and she looked up as she felt the charm on her slip away and focused on a furious looking Dolohov.

She raised her wand but his other hand pulled it away from her before she could even open her mouth. His grip on her wrist tightened as he looked past her for a moment before yanking her out from the open and behind a tall stack of boxes.

"Oh! Miss Granger, you're here too? Suppose this really is a party now, eh?" Turning to her left, she met the bemused stare of Lestrange and cringed at his closeness. She was practically sandwiched in between the two killers with no wand and no way to call for help. She had left her cell at Grimmauld Place in her rush to find Dolohov.

More shouting came from somewhere across the room and she flinched at the memories that came flooding back. Images of flying colors and people screaming. Dead bodies scattered the ground, she couldn't even tell if they were friend or foe. The smell of blood was thick in the air and she couldn't breathe.

She didn't realize that she had begun to hyperventilate until warm hands on her shoulders brought her back. Focusing on the crystalline eyes of Lestrange, she started to regain control of her sporadic breathing pattern. As she did so, she noticed that he was talking as well. She paid attention to his words, distracting herself from whatever panic she had been in.

"-and sometimes when it got too dark, I snuck into my brother's bed. I was too old to go to my parent's but Dolph took care of me. That was his job, as the eldest. He could've told me to shove off and deal with my problems myself but he never did. Do you have any siblings, Miss Granger?"

"No…" She breathed out, finally in control of her body again.

His eyes sparkled mischievously as a grin crossed his face, "Ohhh, so you're like Antonin then. An only child."

Her eyes flicked up to the man in question, but he wasn't facing them. She did notice that the grip on her wrist had lessened significantly. Looking back into the smiling face of Lestrange, she tried to put two and two together.

She was in an abandoned church, standing with two Death Eaters who seemed to be running from other Death Eaters, with no wand or cell phone. And one of them had just helped her get through a panic attack…

 _Of course_ , she thought angrily. _If she made too much noise she'd give away their positions._

"Feeling better?" She heard the same light voice ask her.

But she didn't answer. She was weighing her options. She could try to take her wand back and most likely die or get seriously injured in the attempt. She could do nothing and wait and then be submitted to any and all depraved acts forced upon her. Or she could by her time until she found an opening.

Just as she decided on her course of action, the hand around her tightened and they were moving again. She figured Dolohov would be fast, his legs were half her size, but this was ridiculous. She was practically a ragdoll in his grasp.

Lestrange stayed next to her and seemed to have adopted a more serious persona as he looked all around them as they moved. Never leaving one angle unchecked for too long. They seemed to have a decent system with just the two of them. Hermione might have been impressed if she didn't loathe their existence.

She almost collided with Dolohov when he stopped suddenly. Looking past him, she saw a dirty and ragged looking man smiling maniacally at them from the end of the corridor. She didn't realize how much his face had disturbed her until she noticed that she had unconsciously pressed herself into Dolohov's side.

As she started to move away, she saw his wand arm snap up at record speed and a bright flash of blue exited it before the startling man at the end of the hallway dropped to the ground. He wasn't dead, she thought. It hadn't been the Killing Curse at the very least.

"Rabastan," she heard the less heard voice say. The man on the other side of her looked up at his partner and they had what Hermione guessed to be a silent conversation before Lestrange nodded slightly.

"Alright. You won't be long?" The other man shook his head and Lestrange continued, "See you then."

Hermione's hand had shot out before her mind had time to process it. She grabbed the crook of Lestrange's elbow, stopping him in his tracks. He looked back at her with a bit of surprise in his eyes.

"Something wrong, darling?" He asked her as his expression morphed into one that he no doubt thought was incredibly charming.

"Don't leave me with him," she blurted out. She didn't know _why_ but having Lestrange around was a better option than being alone with Dolohov. She didn't think Lestrange would even protect her from his partner, but maybe he'd be less likely to do anything to her with another person around?

Wishful thinking, she knew.

"You've never been safer, Miss Granger. Just do what he says," he said with a quick wink and pat of her cheek. And then he turned, easily slipping out her lax grip, and ran down an adjacent section until she couldn't see him anymore.

Her heart dropped as the tense silence permeated the air around her. She was alone with the man who was stalking her. The man who had some twisted obsession with her. The one who was torturing and had most likely murdered her parents.

She turned her head slowly and thought for sure that she'd find those bottomless eyes roving her form but his head was turned, looking in the direction of the man he had cursed earlier. Hermione watched his features closely. It was the first time she had been so close to him with time to actually observe him.

His hair wasn't slicked back like she remembered from before the war. He kept it in its natural, wavy curls that hung around his neck and forehead in disarray. She couldn't even look at his eyes, so she trailed down to his straight nose. Then to his angular jaw that was covered in unshaven scruff. It gave him a rugged look as opposed to Lestrange's boyish one.

It was absolutely unfair that murderers were allowed to be handsome.

That caused a thought to strike her. Perhaps she could use his obsession with her to her advantage. If she could seduce him just enough, she could either grab his wand or hers and then use it against him. This could be the opportunity she had been patiently waiting for.

Looking back up at the man, she saw that his gaze had refocused back to her in her moment of contemplation. Trying to keep her nerve about her in the face of his intense gaze, she allowed herself to take a step closer to him. And then another and another until she was staring straight at his chest. She could feel his eyes on the top of her head as she raised her free hand and placed it on his wand arm.

She could feel the natural warmth that came from him through the material of his robes. It was yet another thing that she couldn't believe the man actually had.

"What are you doing, Granger?" The thick voice above her asked. But it wasn't harsh like she had expected. It had an almost curious tilt to it. She exhaled in success; he was buying this.

"Giving you what you want," she told him, trying to make her voice sound sexy. A slightly lower tone and a bit of husk, right? She really should have paid more attention in school when her housemate's and Ginny had talked about this sort of thing.

She felt his hand release her wrist before she felt it grip the bottom of her chin and force her head up to look the man in his eyes. The ones she had been avoiding because of how penetrating they were. His head lowered slightly as he told her, "You don't know what I want."

Her free man roamed the man's surprisingly slim waist, until she slipped it beneath the material of his robe. "Then tell me," she replied as she felt the familiar jolt of magic come from her wand as she brushed against it. She grabbed onto it as the man's eyes darkened and his mouth opened.

Before he could say whatever it was that he wanted, a banging sound forced them apart, but she took her wand with her. He didn't even notice as he turned to look in the direction of the noise, his own wand in hand. She backed away from him slowly before she raised her wand.

She could do it. She could kill him right now. He wouldn't even notice. But that was too good for him. And too cowardly of her. She was a Gryffindor and regardless of him being a sick individual, she wanted to watch the light leave those unnerving eyes of his.

" _Expelliarmus_!" She called, and his wand flew out of his grasp before rebounding back into hers. His figure tensed slightly before turning slightly, just enough for him to glower at her. But she wasn't afraid of him. Not anymore. She had his wand, he had no backup. This would end today.

"Granger…" She heard the threat in his voice but she wasn't intimidated.

"How does it feel to be powerless, Dolohov?" She taunted, drunk on the position she now had him in. "To not know what will come next?"

He didn't say anything, only turned fully to watch her as she grew more and more inflated, "That's how I felt. For months, in fact. With your disgusting gifts and then sudden reappearance. But this game stops now!"

"What the hell are you talking about, Granger?" He growled out but she didn't listen. He knew what he had done. And she would make him say it before she ended his worthless life.

"Were you surprised when my parents didn't mention me? I bet you didn't even know that I had _obliviated_ them before leaving with Harry. They didn't even remember me! But you killed them anyways, am I right?"

"You aren't," was the dry reply she received. But he couldn't lie his way out of this. She knew he was guilty. There wasn't anybody else that it _could_ be.

"I'm going to enjoy this-"

"Granger."

"Because despite all of this-"

" _Granger_."

"I'm still stronger than you!"

" _Hermione!_ " She heard her name and focused on the man's face as he rushed forward. A spell was on the tip of her tongue, but he barreled into her first. The impact caused her to fall back into a wooden board, disorienting her for a moment. She kept her grip on her wand, but a larger hand grabbed hers and the familiar pull of apparation tugged at her gut before the chilly night air assaulted her.

"Hermione!" A voice called out, this time was much more familiar. She pulled out of the unwelcomed grasp and turned to run straight into Harry's waiting arm. He pulled her securely against him as he leveled his wand at the dark figure outside of Grimmauld Place's doorstep.

A dark chuckle carried through the air as the man took a step forward. "You're welcome," she heard him rasp out before he collapsed to his knees. Hermione could see that the back of his robes were almost completely shredded and deep cuts were scattered across it. Blood was running down it and Hermione thought she would be sick again.

 _Had Antonin Dolohov really just protected her?_


	9. Chapter 9

**_Nine_** _– Grimmauld Place – 1:46am_

Hermione sat with her elbows on her knees and fingers against her chin as she watched her roommate angrily pace across the hideous purple rug that she was going to burn as soon as he stopped trying to create a path on their floorboards.

"Why the bloody hell can't I call the Ministry again?" He asked for what was probably the tenth time in an hour.

Hermione sighed deeply and closed her eyes in irritation as she explained, "I want him to regain consciousness first so I can figure out why the _bloody hell_ he saved me in the first place."

"You aren't going to get answers from a lunatic, Mione," Harry huffed and she groaned in frustration. She was tired, confused, and her nerves were still jumping from her raised blood pressure levels.

"Besides," he continued, "How do you even know he saved you? I could have been some elaborate ruse. You said Lestrange ran off earlier, maybe he just doubled back and sent a curse towards you two so that Dolohov could play the hero and we'd be thrown off our guard."

"A spell that serious came from an enemy, not his partner," she muttered.

"Why are you defending them? You just told me that you ran off earlier because those body parts came from your parents and you were going to get revenge for it. If Dolohov did that, why aren't we alerting the Ministry and locking him up?"

"Because I want answers first, Harry!" She exclaimed, standing from her seat in anger. "The Ministry won't let me get to the bottom of it. They'll put him in some impenetrable cell in Godric knows where and I won't be able to find out what happened to my parents for weeks. They could still be alive somewhere," she told him as her voice cracked a bit.

He quickly crossed the room to wrap her in a hard embrace. "Alright, alright. Just… make it quick. Get your answers and then get out of there. I'll be waiting here."

Hermione nodded into his shoulder before pulling away to give him a watery smile. Harry smoothed his thumbs across the bottom of her lashes and whispered, "Bring back badass Hermione. Dolohov won't know what hit him when he meets her."

She chuckled slightly as she turned to head into the kitchen where they had tied the Death Eater while he recovered. But before she went through the doorway of the study, she fingered the foreign wand in her pocket. Pulling it out, she gazed at the darkened willow wood that possessed intricate designs all along it. It buzzed soundly in her hand as though a thousand bees were swarming inside of it.

Everyone was right to fear Dolohov. He had an impeccable sense of magical ability.

Not that she was complimenting him.

Shaking her head clear, she turned around and held out the wand for Harry to take. "Watch this for me. I don't want him anywhere near it again."

He took it with a stern nod and she went across the hall to the kitchen. Steeling her nerves, she opened the door and stepped inside. She met his dark stare almost immediately.

He looked almost at ease with his captivity. His long legs were splayed out in front of him and his posture didn't look the slightest bit tense. Perhaps he understood that there was no getting out of this situation and was prepared to cooperate.

Or he was plotting something.

"Good, you're awake," she remarked pleasantly as she moved closer to his magically bound figure. Taking the seat adjacent from him, she tapped her own wand on the table, creating a few sparks. Her own energy was still thrumming through her due to heightened emotions. Mixed with the dark aura coming from the man next to her, and she felt completely on edge.

But she schooled her features the best she could and looked up to meet his unimpressed stare.

"You healed me," he remarked after a few minutes passed by in silence.

"You saved me," she countered. "Or was that a mistake?"

"It was a spur of the moment decision," he replied icily, eyes narrowing as she pointed her wand at him.

"Spur of the moment, you say? What led to it? Did you want to get into my good graces or were you afraid that our game would be over to soon?"

"No," was his single worded reply.

Hermione bristled in annoyance before asking, "Then why? Why save me?" But he didn't answer. He just kept staring at her with that same disinterested expression.

"Where are my parents?" She asked, changing tactics. Maybe he'd answer her if they talked about something else.

"I don't know," he returned after a brief silence.

"You're the one who kidnapped them and you don't even know where they are?" She asked calmly, feeling her ire rise with each passing second.

"I didn't take them."

She glared at him and leaned closer, keeping her wand trained on him as she did, "I can easily go get Veritaserum and make you tell me the truth. Or you can stop lying and tell me the truth."

His head angled closer to hers as he drawled out, "Then go and get it."

Huffing angrily, she stood from her seat and made her way past the various cabinets in search of the one containing their potions. When she reached the correct one, she reached up to open it but a single hand wrapped around both of her wrists, pinning her to the counter.

She could physically feel his large frame behind her, molding against her own. Why, why did he have to feel so incredibly warm? It was uncomfortable and beginning to churn her gut. And not necessarily in a bad way.

The hand shifted her and deftly turned her entire body so that she was now facing him. She closed her eyes as she felt his free hand trace from her raised arm down past the underside of her breasts to her waist before settling against her hip. She felt him slip her wand from the back pocket of her jean's.

"How did you get out?" She breathed out, as she tried one last ditch effort to distract him from the inevitable. He would either kill her or rape her. That was his end goal after all, wasn't it?

"You should really do more research on your self-proclaimed enemies," he spoke huskily into her ear, setting her skin on fire as she felt his warm breath against the sensitive part of her skin. He pulled back and looked down at her with a small amount of smugness twinkling in his eyes, "I'm an expert at Charms. Wordless and wandless spells have been added to my file. Read it sometime, Granger. You might learn a thing or two."

"Self-proclaimed?" She sputtered out. She wasn't the one who started all of this! He was!

"Yes, self-proclaimed, you idiot child. Besides attacking you on two separate occasions, I've done nothing to you _or_ your family."

"Attacking?! You tried to kill me," she insisted but was cut off by the sound of his deep chuckles. It sounded much nicer than his earlier ones… And she was _not_ going down that train of thought!

He leaned closer to her and she was forced to look deep into his eyes as he told her, "If I had been trying to kill you, you would be dead. Remember that, _kotenok._ " He pointed her wand up at her wrists still bound in his hand and after a flash of yellow light, released her.

Except… Her hands were still stuck. She pulled fruitlessly but couldn't move her upper appendages. He had placed a sticking charm on her!

"Granger," she heard his low voice issue, regaining her attention. He was still directly in front of her, and staring with those… _brown_ eyes… In this light, she could easily see that his eyes weren't just some bottomless void of black but just a really deep shade of brown. Almost like chocolate, really. Her brows furrowed in irritation with herself as his hand raised to cup her cheek.

"I suggest being more cautious from now on. You did find yourself a relentless enemy."

And then he was turning to leave. But she called out before he could get very far, "Wait!" He paused and looked over his shoulder. "W-What… What do you mean…?"

"Ask the right question, Granger."

She thought for a moment; she had done nothing but accuse Dolohov of being her stalker since he reappeared. If he wasn't, but knew who it was, all she had to do was… ask the right bloody question…

"Who has been stalking me?"

His next word caused her stomach to drop as he turned and left the kitchen. She briefly registered the sounds of a scuffle and what sounded like an annoyed voice declare something about, "shitty Aurors," before the door to her home slammed shut and the sticking charm around her hands disappeared.

She dropped to the ground and stared horrifically at the spot Dolohov had just stood in. He hadn't even looked the least bit concerned when he told her who her stalker was. A man she believed to be dead. A man who haunted her nightmares even more so than Antonin Dolohov.

 _Fenrir Greyback…_


	10. Chapter 10

**_Ten_** _– The Burrow – 6:30pm_

Hermione wanted to pull her hair out. Not even figuratively at this point. If Harry didn't have a hold of her hand she would probably be tugging away at her unruly curls.

It had been an hour since they got here and already Mrs. Weasley had tried to shove Harry and Ginny onto the same couch, made several remarks about them living alone together, and Ginny potentially staying at Grimmauld Place for the upcoming holiday.

Harry was beginning to run out of polite ways to decline and deflect but Hermione had been left stewing with several nasty ones. She was afraid that if left unchecked, she'd begin chewing out the two increasingly desperate women. And she really didn't want to resort to that.

But she'd had a tough week.

Her parents were still missing and her contacts in Australia had no information about the alias' she had set them up with. She was being sent their remains, potentially by Fenrir Greyback and not Dolohov like she had previously thought. And speaking of which, Dolohov was still on the loose. After sticking her to the cabinet, he had stunned Harry, retrieved his own wand, dropped hers, and then left.

It was all entirely disconcerting. He had ample opportunity to kill either or both of them and had done nothing. He had incapacitated them with little to no effort! He had gotten out of the bonds that both she and Harry had placed him under and left without answering the majority of her questions.

He _had_ answered the most important though… The identity of her stalker.

That caused her to tense up again, squeezing her best friend's hand in the process. He was taking this situation she had found herself in almost worse than she was. He felt like he had failed her in some way and no amount of comfort or arguing solved it. He outright told her that if Greyback was alive and stalking her, that it was his fault for not doing anything about it.

But it wasn't his fault… Most of the Death Eaters escaped after the final battle. And if they're coming back to England, then the Ministry will find and catch them all before they try to destroy the wizarding world again.

Even though Lestrange and Dolohov are still running around out there doing Merlin knows what…

She had practically memorized their files. Greyback's too. Harry had made her copies and brought them home for them to look over together. He wanted them caught as much as she did.

Despite Greyback being her main prerogative, she spent an inappropriate amount of time rereading Dolohov's…

 _Antonin Vladimirovich Dolohov_

 _Born October 26_ _th_ _, 1956 to Vladimir (d. 1981) and Masha Dolohov (d. 1981)._

 _Attended Hogwarts 1967-1974, sorted in Slytherin House, Prefect 5-7_ _th_ _years. Little to no disciplinary recourse. Highest known O.W.L and N.E.W.T Charms score in past hundred years._

 _Aligned with He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named once out of school. Most recognized for magical abilities, spell creation, and cursebreaking. Has been known to use wordless and wandless charms. Creator of the Morsmodre Charm and what has come to be known only as the Taboo._

 _Imprisoned in Azkaban July 11_ _th_ _, 1981 for the murders of Fabian and Gideon Prewett, Leila Rainstream, Auror Chaff Hendragon, and countless Muggles. Escaped entrapment January 6, 1996. Imprisoned again June 18, 1996. Escaped for final time July 11_ _th_ _, 1997._

 _Participated in Second Wizarding War and Final Battle of Hogwarts. Responsible for the deaths of Remus Lupin and Filius Flitwick. Evaded recapture. No known whereabouts._

 _Added notes: Bounty of 600,000 galleons. Highly dangerous. Last seen in Cornwall. Suspected to be traveling and aided by Rabastan Lestrange. Motivations unclear. Capture or kill on sight._

There was a lot of added fluff about his so called accomplishments, detailed reports of his crimes, and even transcripts from his time at Hogwarts. Hermione wished she hadn't read them. He really was highly adept at Charms. He could be considered a prodigy at the level he was at during his schooling.

It just made him all the more dangerous.

But the only discrepancy in any of the reports were his mandatory psych details. He had several evaluations over the course of his imprisonment and none of them showed him to be overtly psychopathic. He was certainly a borderline sociopath, what with gaining pleasure from pain and being willing to murder and torture, but he was far from insane.

Anti-social, sadistic, and morally grey, he was still far from a good person. But he wasn't the worst of the worst it seemed… She still didn't trust him and she _certainly_ did _not_ like him. He just wasn't as dangerous as she had originally found him to be. It didn't mean he still wasn't; just not as much.

He wasn't Greyback though. He didn't have a long, strewn out history of infecting, torturing, raping, and murdering anyone from children to adults, Muggles to wizards and the like. He didn't just enjoy it, he thrived off of it. He contributed nothing but destruction and the worst kinds of evil.

And now he appeared to be completely obsessed with Hermione.

She could still smell the stench of him. Like a vagrant mixed with the scent of iron. He had reeked of blood. His horrible face was imprinted in her mind. The raspy words he had spoken to her while they had waited outside of Malfoy Manor... What he wanted to do to her. How he wanted to take her. How he would inevitably kill her. It still sent chills through her body.

If she thought she was afraid of Dolohov, then she was terrified of Greyback.

But at least she had thought one of them to be dead…

The last people who had seen the werewolf were Ron and Neville and both swore up and down that he had gotten crushed underneath a pile of rubble. No body had been recovered though. But everyone still just assumed he was dead. Maybe it was the panic and uncertainty that war left behind, but now Hermione was wishing they had done a better job of inventorying all of the deceased; not just those on the Light side.

Who else could still be out there? Bellatrix? Pettigrew? Crouch? How many are actually dead as opposed to missing? These are the answers that Hermione desperately wanted but would not get for some time. If ever.

For now, though, she'd refocus her attentions on finding Greyback and figuring out how she would through this ordeal. She wasn't going to sit around anymore while he hunted and stalked her like prey. That just wasn't who Hermione Granger was.

"Now really, Harry. I don't see what's so wrong with my daughter that she can't stay with you two," Mrs. Weasley huffed out for the umpteenth time that evening. Hermione loved the family but she wished they would move on and discuss something else.

"Hermione and I just like our privacy, Mrs. Weasley. It doesn't have anything to do with Ginny," Harry said curtly, a small smile playing on his face as he looked over at her. He had a mischievous glint in his eye that Hermione didn't necessarily like. It meant he was either about to do something stupid or something she wouldn't like.

Or both.

"I mean, we just started this relationship and it's very new so we just prefer to be on our own at the moment," Harry explained to the wide eyed crowd. Even Mr. Weasley looked momentarily stunned.

But Hermione only swallowed a sigh before plastering a ridiculously bright smile on her face. She knew it would eventually come to this. She and Harry would pretend to be dating to throw off the Weasley's. The only person who didn't look shocked was George. He was only eyeing them cryptically, brows furrowed in concentration.

He probably didn't believe them for a second. But she didn't think he'd tell his family. This was probably the most entertainment he'd had in months.

"What?!" Ginny exclaimed, her hand flying up to her mouth.

"You both… When did this happen?" Mrs. Weasley demaned.

"Recently," Hermione fibbed. "We'd been edging closer to it for a while now but the past few weeks just sort of solidified it for us."

Harry gave her a grateful nod and a squeeze of the hand before returning his attention back to his ex-girlfriend, "I really am sorry that we didn't tell you sooner but Mione and I just wanted to see how we would get on first. And it's going really well."

Hermione hated seeing the hurt in the younger girl's face but she hated seeing her best friend be unhappy even more. He was already stressed as it was, with his job, with forgetting the war, and with helping her deal with her stalker. He didn't need the added stress of women.

So she'd play along for as long as the both of them could.

It's just what friends are for.


	11. Chapter 11

**_Eleven_** _– Diagon Alley – 3:48pm_

Hermione covered her eyes as the late afternoon sun beat down on her. She should have brought her sunglasses but the morning had been so hectic between the angry letters she was now getting from Ginny along with Greyback's disgusting notes that she had just wanted to get out of that house.

After spending the morning at the office, she had left early to spend the rest of the afternoon in the rare sunny weather. This would probably be the last time they'd see it for a while. Britain wasn't known for its agreeable weather, especially not in December.

She had done a bit of grocery shopping and was now just taking a leisurely stroll before she decided to apparate back to Grimmauld Place. She hadn't told Harry a time to expect her so it really didn't matter when she chose to return home.

Hermione just wanted time to breath, to relax for once. She had felt like a sprung coil since her fifth year of Hogwarts and didn't seem any closer to relieving herself of that. Not when the danger was still present. And not when the universe seemed determined to cause her more and more stress on a daily basis.

Starting with the Weasley females.

After Harry's lie, she had been continuously badgered by both Molly and Ginny almost daily. Mostly the elder just wanted details as to how and why and when she and Harry had decided to start a relationship. And the youngest… Well, she was just upset that Hermione had gone back on her word.

Which was absolute shite. Ginny had asked Hermione three years ago if she was interested in Harry romantically. And her answer at the time had been no. She had harbored a small crush on Ron, she had been agonizing over wizarding tests, and she had been dealing with the increasing threat of war. Not exactly a good time to analyze her feelings or relationship with Harry. Who had also had enough on his plate as well.

She still didn't necessarily have romantic feelings for Harry. He was her best friend, the closest thing to family that she had now, and maybe they were even closer than lovers, but she didn't love him in 'that way.' She was only pretending for his sake. He'll settle down with a lovely witch eventually and then she'll be free to pursue whatever or whoever.

Hermione just wasn't all that interested in dating after her tentative relationships with Ron, Viktor for the second time, and even Blaise Zabini all fizzled out. She refocused her attention on work and bettering herself instead of searching for male attention. Besides, she still had Harry.

Smiling to herself, she turned a corner and ran headfirst into a man's chest. She knew it had to be a male because of the spicy cologne surrounding them. Stepping back, she noticed that hands had reached out to steady her and were still holding onto her as she swayed slightly.

"You know, Miss Granger… We really should stop meeting like this. One of us might just end up falling onto our arse," a joking voice said from in front of her. She groaned audibly as she looked up into the pleased eyes of Rabastan Lestrange.

"Don't you have someone else to stalk?" She muttered unhappily as she righted the bag around her shoulder.

He released one of her arms as he tapped his chin with his fingers thoughtfully. "Nope," he enunciated with a pop of his lips.

She rolled her eyes before stepping out of his grasp, "I should call the Aurors right now."

Lestrange grinned devilishly as he leaned forward, "But you won't. Just like you could have called them the first time we met, or the second, or even the third. I'm honestly surprised you didn't the third time. Antonin told me what happened. You had him unconscious in your house and you didn't even call for help! No wonder he got out so easily."

"Are you finished?" Hermione snapped out, not wanting to be reminded of her mistake from two weeks ago. She knew she should have called the Ministry, but she had wanted answers so badly…

"Mmm, that depends," he said with a tilt of his head. "Why'd you heal him?"

"Because I'm a good person?" She replied sarcastically, but he only furrowed his brows before giving her a mildly serious expression.

"No really… Why'd you do it?"

Hermione sobered slightly as she thought back to it. She had originally just wanted him to answer her questions but… she had to admit that there was just _something_ about Dolohov that intrigued her. If he was dead or in Azkaban then, well…

"I don't know…" She deflected halfheartedly. Looking back at Lestrange, she could tell that he didn't believe her, but he seemed appeased with her answer nonetheless.

"So, are you busy?" He asked suddenly.

Hermione's eyes widened as she stared at his boyish smile, "Um… not really… Why?" She really didn't know what this man's angle was. If Dolohov was an enigma, then Lestrange was a walking contradiction.

"Would you like to come back to my place for some tea?" She would have laughed at the absurdity of the situation if it weren't for the honest look in his eyes. He wasn't joking. He wasn't preying on her. He genuinely wanted her to join him for afternoon tea.

Just what had she gotten herself into?

Despite the oddness, she accepted, thinking to herself that if she new where the two stayed then it would make capturing them that much easier. And after a quick trip of Side-Along apparition, she found herself outside of a Muggle apartment complex.

"This is where you two stay?" She questioned in disbelief. No way would two purebloods stay in such a hovel. And especially not two Death Eaters in a highly populated Muggle area.

"Mhmm," he hummed. "It's pretty cheap, quiet, and no one would ever think to find us here. Antonin really outdid himself with location."

They wandered inside and Hermione couldn't help but notice how homey the small space seemed. While small, it actually seemed to work for two occupants. The main floor of the area included a kitchen and combined dining table, a living room with a two seater couch and a sturdy armchair, and then three doors that must lead to bedrooms and a bathroom.

"It's not bad," she mused while looking at a bookshelf consisting of tomes devoted to charm and spellwork. They must be Dolohov's; he was the 'expert' after all.

"Glad you like it," he piqued as he went into the kitchen to start making the tea. Hermione observed him as he filled the kettle with water and then placed it on the stove. Did Lestrange just enjoy doing things the Muggle way?

"Wouldn't it be quicker to use magic?" She blurted out.

He looked over at her and shrugged one shoulder nonchalantly, "Probably." But he didn't answer her question, which only left her with more. Come to think of it… Had she ever actually seen Lestrange do any magic? Had she even seen him with a wand since they had started seeing each other again?

"Where's your wand?" She asked slowly, watching his reaction as he leaned against the cheap countertop. He glanced over at her with a sad smile plastered on his face.

"Haven't got one anymore," was his short reply.

"Why not?" She questioned, genuinely curious as to why a wizard didn't have a wand. She walked closely to him and let herself rest against the wall separating one of the bedrooms from the open floor plan.

"Lost it sometime between the final battle and running from the werewolves," he vaguely explained.

"Mr. Lestrange-" She started, only to be caught off guard by his disarmingly bright smile being directed her way.

"Rabastan, love. You can call me by my name."

She eyed him warily for a moment before nodding slightly, "Rabastan then… Why were you running from werewolves?"

"The packs got all hot and bothered after the Dark Lord lost. They wanted what they had been promised but most of us were just itching to get out of there. Since Antonin and I had established ourselves as Inner Circle members, they came after us first."

"And you lost your wand during that time?"

"Must have," he quipped. "Seeing as I haven't got it now."

"So… you left Britain originally, didn't you?" She asked hesitantly, wandering when her line of questioning would either hit a brick wall or cause the overtly friendly man to lose his temper.

"Aye, me and Antonin went to Russia for a few months to hide out," he told her as the kettle began to whistle. He quickly moved to take it off the stove and went to work actually making the tea and serving it. He set the two cups on the table and Hermione sat in front of one of them while Rabastan sat in the seat adjacent to her.

She blew on the cup lightly as she watched him do the same. "Why did you come back then? No one had any idea you two were even still alive until I saw you both in Diagon Alley," she probably should have stopped the questions, drank the tea in front of her and then left as quickly as she could, but this was the first time she was getting any sort of answer. And she quite enjoyed knowing things.

Lestrange seemed to somber up at the question as he starred fixatedly into his dark liquid. He only raised his eyes after the silence became deafening to Hermione. "My brother," he replied weakly.

"Your brother?" She echoed, thinking back onto whatever she knew about Rodolphus Lestrange. Not much really. Even less than she knew about Dolohov. Just that he had been married to Bellatrix, joined Voldemort when he was young, and had a brother.

"But," he deflected naturally, perking back up almost instantly, "Enough about that. Did you want to stay for dinner?"

She blinked rapidly at the sudden change and abrupt offer, "Um… well…"

"I mean, neither Antonin or I can cook, but you're welcome to stay for whatever we manage to scrounge up for dinner," he added in what she assumed was his encouraging tone. He wasn't exactly reassuring her in any case.

"Neither of you can cook?" She questioned angrily. "How have you been living on your own for so long?"

Lestrange smiled sheepishly as he rang his hands, "Um, well, we've been eating a lot of that Muggle cereal and mikowhale dinners. It's not the best but it's the only thing either of us has any clue how to do. I got our downstairs neighbor to show me how to use the thing."

"Microwave dinners?" She clarified and he nodded earnestly. She ran her hands over her face as she thought through these new developments. Hermione didn't exactly hate Rabastan. He wasn't horrible or disgusting and albeit occasionally annoying and insufferable, wasn't so different from certain boys during her schooling days.

And she didn't feel like she was in danger around him. If anything, she felt a certain calmness in her chest that she hadn't felt in months. A lightness that she was loathe to get rid of in that moment. So she agreed, yet again.

They didn't have much food in the cabinets but luckily Hermione _had_ been grocery shopping earlier before running into Rabastan. She was in the process of adding the finishing touches to the bangers and mash when the man next to her huddled a little closer than he had previously been. The two of them had been discussing Hogwarts and the difference between the four Houses and interpersonal relations when she felt his body press against hers, his mouth close to the shell of her ear.

"Don't panic, but Antonin's home," she heard his voice say. She could automatically feel herself tensing up, even with Rabastan's reassuring form behind her.

"He won't do anything, I swear. He might not even be mad," Rabastan said quickly, trying to dispense some of the thoughts that he probably knew would be swimming around in her mind.

She refocused her attention onto the food she was making and told herself that if Dolohov had a problem with her being there, he could take it up with his bloody roommate who invited her.

That thought was better in theory than in practice.

When Hermione felt Rabastan shift behind her, she turned to look at what had caught his attention. The unbelievably tall, dark, and worthlessly handsome man standing in the doorway was quite the sight indeed.

Especially since he had supporting an impressive glower that was directed at the two of them standing in his kitchen.


	12. Chapter 12

**_Twelve_** _– Apartment of Rabastan Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov – 5:30pm_

"Welcome back, Antonin. We were just getting dinner started."

Hermione's head swiveled back to look at the man behind her before warily eyeing the silent man in the doorway. She seriously hoped Lestrange knew what he was doing. Otherwise this situation was about to go extremely badly and most likely end up with their murders.

And he might have a death wish but she certainly did not.

The tense silence surrounded them for several long seconds before the unmoving wizard suddenly started forward. It wasn't a quick, hurried pace, but more of a stalk. He came close to the two of them and loomed over them for a moment, staring Hermione down as his arm reached up and opened a cupboard barely a foot from her head.

She watched him like unblinkingly as he pulled a vaguely familiar looking bottle out of the wooden doors before he was turning and moving into the living area. He collapsed into an armchair and crossed one of his long legs over the other before twisting the cork off of the bottle, a resounding 'pop' echoing around the space.

"Oh yes, we're well, thank you for asking Antonin," she heard Lestrange's sarcastic voice say from behind her. "No, no, we don't need any help, by all means continue to drink."

She wanted to wither under the glare that Dolohov sent Rabastan's way but the man in question merely smirked at his supposed friend before turning a charming smile Hermione's way. "I'm kidding, of course. He'll need that drink. He's terribly grumpy when he's sober."

She heard and watched Dolohov purposely set his bottle down on the end table too roughly, causing a bang that had Lestrange practically giggling. "See what I mean," he whispered into her ear.

Hermione was still trying to figure out what she had gotten herself into with this scenario.

Turning back to the potatoes, she refocused her attention on that and ignored the fuming man in the corner. Lestrange hummed pleasantly behind her and she felt herself beginning to calm down a bit. She wasn't in any immediate danger at the very least.

When the food was finished, she helped the other wizard place it all on their medium sized rickety table and allowed him to seat her like the pureblood gentleman he must have been raised as. After her short dalliance with Zabini, she learned a bit more about Slytherins and purebloods in general. Not much, but enough that she didn't question Lestrange's behavior. It was just how he was raised, she supposed.

"Antonin," Lestrange called out in a singsong voice. "Dinner's ready!"

Hermione began serving herself some sausage while keeping an eye on the back of the dark haired man across the room as his form tensed. She could practically see the veins on the back of the hand that had a grip on the bottle of Firewhiskey.

Just when she thought that he was going to continue to ignore them, he stood up fluidly, looking every inch his typical dark self. But she wasn't going to let herself be intimidated anymore. He had his chance to kick her out or hurt her and he hadn't. She wasn't going to be bullied now.

He walked over towards them and took the seat next to Rabastan who had placed himself across from her. Rabastan served him a good portion of food before turning to wink at Hermione.

The three of them quietly dug into their respective meals, but Hermione watched the men carefully from behind her lashes. She was still curious about them but mostly wondered if they liked her cooking or not. Lestrange had talked about only ever being served by house elves before. She wondered if this was better or worse.

Harry never complained about her cooking, lackluster as it was. But after being raised by the Dursley's, most people's cooking was better. Especially since he just got to eat in general.

She didn't think she'd have to worry about Rabastan though, he was making strange sounds of content as he ate, causing the man next to him to glare in annoyance. Hermione wanted to laugh at the two of them. They were the most opposite of individuals she had ever met and yet they lived and worked together.

And the more time she spent with them, the more she wanted to know about them. How had they become friends, what bonds them together, why stay together?

Why return to England at all?

Rabastan had mentioned his brother but that wasn't really an answer. Rodolphus Lestrange was in Azkaban, why would the two Death Eaters return for a man that they couldn't even see?

Watching Dolohov out of the corner of her eye, she instantly met his dark gaze for a moment. But he didn't do anything other than stare for a moment before returning his eyes down to his plate. Did this mean that she had won whatever this was between them? He was just going to accept what was happening?

"So what do you do for work Hermione?" Rabastan asked after a few moments had passed by in almost comfortable silence. Dolohov's fist hit the table roughly as he dropped his hand that was holding a knife. Hermione watched it warily as the wizard glared at the grinning man.

Hermione cleared her throat before explaining, "I work in the Muggle Relations Department. Misuse of Muggle Artefacts mainly. But I also help to integrate wizards to Muggle culture and technology."

"Like what?" Lestrange asked curiously, leaning forward as he showed genuine interest.

"Oh," she said in surprise. "Like hooking them up with electricity, appliances, phones, and the sort."

"I should have gotten you to teach me how to use a microwave. You're much more qualified," he said with a cheeky grin, causing Hermione to crack a small smile as well.

"I think I just have the patience for it," she offered.

"You're also lovelier than those tubby, balding wizards they would send instead," he said with another wink. Normally Hermione would blush under the clear flirtation but for some reason, she just couldn't take Lestrange seriously. It was like when the twins used to joke and tease her. So she just smiled and chuckled slightly.

She took a sip of water as Rabastan smirked at her before returning to his meal. Turning her head, she met Dolohov's cryptic stare before he too returned to his meal. What had that odd expression on his face been? Did he not like the fact that Rabastan had been flirting with a Mudblood?

She pushed her ire down as she finished her food, not wanting to pick a fight or overcomplicate things more than they already were.

As all of their plates began to look barren, Rabastan pushed himself backwards in the chair and patted his stomach appreciatively, "Well, I think that's officially the best dinner I've had in years. Thank you, Hermione."

She smiled politely back at him, not being able to resist that boyish look of his, "You're welcome."

He stood from the table abruptly and with a mischievous look on his face, he headed towards the door to leave the apartment, "I'm stepping out for a moment. Antonin, since Hermione and I cooked, you have to clean up! Be back soon!"

The two left in the room sat staring at the door in varying degrees of surprise and annoyance.

"Is he always that…?" She started to mutter, trailing off as she couldn't find the right word to use for the creature that was Rabastan Lestrange.

"Unfortunately," came the unexpected, low reply.

She looked over at the sound and watched the man stand from his seat before brandishing his wand. He sent their dirty dishes to the small sink. She stood as well and walked over to the sink, turning the faucet on and grabbing a sponge from a bag underneath of the sink.

Feeling someone watching her, she turned to her left and saw Dolohov standing a foot behind her, watching her with something that she suspected might have been curiosity. Rolling up the sleeves to her jumper, she turned the water off and looked back at again.

"You don't have to do them, I just find cleaning them the Muggle way to be relaxing," she said softly, trying to decipher the look on his face. Had she ever had this trouble trying to figure out a wizard before? Even Lestrange was a bit easier than Dolohov.

He didn't say anything and she doubted he would, so she turned around and stuck her hands into the water, beginning to wash the first sink load of dishes. But hearing a small rustling sound and footsteps, she turned to her left again just as the shirt of a burgundy material appeared next to her.

She stood completely still, shocked, as she watched Dolohov roll up the sleeves to his shirt, having removed his outer robes. His arms were coated in dark hair but it looked nice with his olive skin. And his hands were large, just like she remembered from those few days ago when he had touched her-

Shaking her head, she went back to cleaning the dishes on her side of the sink while he turned on the water on his side. "You really don't have to," she asserted, still trying to figure out the man that was Antonin Dolohov.

"Might as well continue with the strange theme of the evening," he said dryly, causing Hermione to raise her eyebrows in surprise. Had he just… made a sarcastic remark? Was he actually joking with her in some snarky sort of way?

He was right, this evening was weird.

The two of them stood side by side, each washing the dishes in their sink, the sound of water sloshing the only thing to be heard. It was almost relaxing, Hermione realized. Surreal, definitely, but not as tense as she had previously thought it would be.

When they finished drying and putting everything away, Hermione was left awkwardly standing in front of the man as he seemed to be deep in thought. The lines on his forehead became much more pronounced and his intense stare was even more so than usual.

"What…?" She asked self-consciously, trying to figure out why he was staring at her so intently.

He shook his head slowly, "I'm attempting to figure you out, Granger."

That surprised her. Especially since she was trying to do the same with him.

"You knowingly came to the residence of two wanted Death Eaters, prepared and ate a meal with them, and act as though nothing is wrong. You can understand why I find this situation to be odd."

"So?" She said defensively, realizing herself how this must look. She was either incredibly naïve, stupid, or suicidal. But at the time, and even now, she didn't know why.

So of course he asked her the same question.

"Why?"

But she still didn't have an answer. And the thought that scared her the most was that she didn't feel like she needed one. She didn't need to justify her choices. Or she just didn't want to.

What was happening to her?


	13. Chapter 13

**_Thirteen_** _– The Burrow – 4:56pm_

"And how has Harry been?" Mrs. Weasley asked for what seemed like the tenth time that evening. Hermione regretted accepting the invitation to join the family for dinner without her roommate and fake boyfriend.

She had stopped feeling as welcomed around the family since her tentative relationship with Ron had fizzled out. After her dalliance with Blaise, it had become even colder. The warmest relationship she had was with Mr. Weasley but the man was also one of the nicest individuals she knew. The others however…

And well, George wasn't actually cold, but he was practically catatonic nowadays. Ginny was furious with her and Mrs. Weasley was the same. Not quite welcoming but not quite antagonistic.

Honestly, she was just annoying if anything. But Hermione forced a smile to her face and contended with veiled insults and numerous questions about the wellbeing of Harry. She knew the women were just looking for an excuse to move her out of the way and attempt to get Ginny and Harry back together. She wasn't budging though. She'd stay with Harry for as long as he wanted her to, just as she promised almost a year ago.

"He's been just fine, busy with work," she said cheerily, swallowing the guilt she also felt for hiding the recent events from the family that took her in along with Harry all those years ago.

But the less people knew, the better. She didn't want to cause an incident or have people needlessly hurt in her determination to find Greyback and her parents.

If she had it her way, the beast would have been put down long ago and never have had the chance to harm or terrorize anyone. Not after everything that he's done. To her, to the wizarding and Muggle worlds, and to those she loved and respected.

Standing from her spot on the couch, she excused herself to the bathroom, feeling the start of another panic attack. They'd been happening more frequently as of late and she credited it all to learning about Greyback. The nightmares had gotten even worse. She'd taken to just sleeping a few hours and drinking a lot of coffee. The less she was asleep, the less terrified she was.

Even having Harry with her didn't help anymore. She still woke up drenched in sweat, listening to her best friend's panicked voice attempt to futilely calm her down and comfort her. It just didn't work now.

Closing the bathroom door, she gripped the corners of the sink and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Dark circles surrounded her eyes, her skin was paler than usual, and her entire expression just seemed gaunt and lifeless. She was falling to pieces and each time she went to pick them up, more just fell through the cracks.

Turning on the water, she cupped some in her hands before splashing her face with it, breathing evenly to help calm herself down. After a few moments, she felt herself begin to settle and flushed the toilet to make it seem as though she had actually done as she claimed.

Opening the door, she quietly padded out of the room, straying out of her thoughts when she heard the sound of Ginny's voice say, "Don't know why he's avoiding me. He can't _actually_ be happy with her, can he? He's my soulmate Mum, and she's just confusing him."

"I agree that Harry looks to her for too many answers… But he'll come to his senses soon enough Gin," Mrs. Weasley's voice added with a soothing lilt. Hermione paused in the hallway and continued to eavesdrop, not caring that it was wrong. She was finally hearing something honest for once, even if it wasn't directed at her.

"How can he? She doesn't give him the chance to. First she gets pity with her parents and then she moves in and now she's wormed her way into his bed? It's pathetic." And then Hermione's gut clenched when she heard Ginny add in a lower tone, " _She's_ pathetic."

Walking out from behind the wall, Hermione didn't even waste a second glance on the two startled redheaded women as she waltzed past them and into the kitchen. Grabbing a muffin from a plate, she said goodbye to the oblivious Mr. Weasley before stepping through the Floo. She had had enough of the Weasley's for one day.

Reeling from still being unused to Floo travel, Hermione waited a moment before stepping fully into the room and heading for the kitchen. She needed some tea. Or perhaps something stronger.

But when she neared her destination, she heard hushed voices coming from behind the door. Knocking slightly to alert the occupants to her presence, she opened the swinging door to see an exhausted Harry and a skittish looking Neville.

Stopping in the doorway, she watched the two carefully as she said, "Everything okay guys?"

"Eh…" Harry sighed deeply. "We've been lamenting the fact we've had no luck in trying to find any werewolves in general, let alone Greyback and his pack."

He ran a hand through his unruly hair before staring off listlessly, "I wish Remus were still here… He'd know what to do."

Sensing an episode of self-loathing approaching, Hermione tried to change the subject, "So, Neville, how's Hannah?"

Smiling slightly, the relieved Neville answered, "She's good. We're still planning the wedding, or well, she's planning it. She asks for my opinion but I just tell her whatever makes her happy will make me happy."

"Oh don't say that, Nev. You'll end up with all Hufflepuff colors and what will everybody think?" She teased lightly and mentally cheered when she saw Harry crack a smile at the thought.

"I can just see Seamus and Dean's faces now," he said with a cheeky grin growing. Neville let out a chortle and Hermione smiled brightly. She was glad that the fog the two of them had previously been in was disappearing.

It wasn't until that night when she realized that it had gone to her instead.

She tossed and turned as she tried desperately to get to sleep, but the grotesque picture of Greyback standing over the dead bodies of her friends and family became too much. And when the scene had morphed into her chained to the wall while he began to do depraved acts to her person, she had awoken with a choked sob, clutching the sheets between her stark white hands.

Rubbing her hands through her hair, she attempted to get a grip but she was slowly finding it harder to breathe and even harder to think. And then it was like her body had gone on autopilot. She was getting out of bed, slipping on a woolen jumper over her tank top and leaving her fluffy pajama bottoms as they were before grabbing her cloak.

She walked outside and apparated to the first place that had crossed her mind upon pulling her wand out. But as she stared across the street at the familiar apartment, she wondered briefly why this was the sanctuary she had chosen in the dead of night.

It didn't even matter as she climbed the stairs to the second floor and went straight to the numbers 234, knocking as soon as she stood in front of the door. Hearing footsteps on the other side of the wall, the thought of leaving never even crossed her mind as it opened and she took in the sight of long brown hair and cerulean blue eyes that instantly changed from drowsy to concerned.

Without hesitation, she launched herself into Rabastan Lestrange's waiting arms and began sobbing in the doorway to his apartment, never questioning her decision, never doubting what she was doing.

She just wanted to feel better. And for some reason, with him…

She did.


	14. Chapter 14

**_Fourteen_** _– Antonin Dolohov and Rabastan Lestrange's Apartment – 1:34am_

"Hermione?" The voice above her mumbles softly, gently. She peels away from him, unclenching her hands that had been fisted in the man's shirt and locked eyes with him. He appeared concerned and took a good look at her before ushering her inside.

He puts the kettle on the stove before leading her into their living area and sitting her down on a couch. As a second thought, he yanks the woolen blanket off the back of it and wraps it around her shoulders with such tenderness that she's convinced he's done this before at some point in his life.

She watches him silently as he goes back to the shrill kettle and pours the two of them some tea. He brings them in and hands her a glass before setting his on an end table. He then plants himself directly next to her and wraps one of his arms around her back, placing his hand on the middle of it. He does some erratic behavior with his hand that she suspects he must have thought was very soothing but just made her want to giggle.

He was actually pretty good at comforting her up until that bizarre hand movement.

"Do you want to, um… talk about it or anything?" He asked, almost awkwardly. She suspected that while he may have comforted before, he hadn't done it enough to really gain much experience from it. That, or he wasn't used to comforting women.

"It's fine… I was just feeling lost, I guess."

"So you decided to try to find yourself here?" He looked incredulous as he stared at her with one eyebrow raised. She snorted slightly as he cracked a small smile, "All seriousness though, this hellhole isn't where you want to say you found yourself. Maybe drugs, but not any existential nonsense."

"How do you know what drugs are?" She said with mirth bubbling up in her belly. Maybe this was why she came here. She needed a good laugh.

"Our neighbors talk about it a lot. Like, all the time. It's all they ever do. I don't really know what it is, but that's apparently all you'll really find in this place. Well, besides me and Antonin," he added as a second thought and a charming smile.

She finally broke out into laughter. At him, at the ridiculousness of the situation, and at his drug addict neighbors.

"See, there you go. That's what I like to see," Rabastan said with a lightness to his eyes Hermione never remembered seeing before. It might have been fondness showing in those blue orbs.

"What do you like to see?"

"You smile," he said simply, reaching over to take a drink of his tea before spitting it back into the cup.

"Ugh, too much sugar. Sorry, I made them in a rush and did them the way Antonin prefers," he said with a wince as he placed his cup back on the table next to him.

As he did, Hermione took a sip of her own and raised her brows in surprise. While it was indeed incredibly sugary, it wasn't half bad. She normally never took this much sugar in her own tea, but she could see the appeal. Especially if you were someone with an exceptional sweet tooth.

She was learning the strangest things about Dolohov the more she spent time with Lestrange.

"So he's an alcoholic and a chocoholic?" She deadpanned and watched as Rabastan began to cackle obnoxiously as he rolled over on the couch and practically fell off. Hermione couldn't help but giggle at the sight he made. Curled up and clutching his middle as he laughed and laughed. He resembled a small child.

"Oh sweet Merlin, oh that's good," the wizard said as he wiped imaginary tears from his eyes. "I wish Antonin had been here to hear that. It would have made him unbelievably grumpy."

"Is he just perpetually sour?" She asked curiously. She knew she shouldn't pry too much into these men at the risk of possibly caring about them, but at this point… It was a little too late.

"Generally. He's got his moments, and normally he's just quiet, not necessarily grumpy, but he's gotten worse with old age," Rabastan complained as he plopped his head down in Hermione's lap like he owned the spot.

Blinking in confusion, she debated for a moment at letting him stay there. Eventually, she let him. Mostly because she was the one that came to his place in the middle of the night, potentially waking him anyways. She could let him stay where he was apparently most comfortable.

"Is he much older than you?"

She felt his head shake in her lap before he answered, "Nah, he's a good three years older than me. And Dolph was three years older than him."

"So you grew up together?"

"For the most part," he mumbled into her leg as he attempted to roll over a bit to get comfortable. She tentatively reached out to move his longer hair out of his way so it didn't get caught in between her thighs and his head.

"He was an only child and a Russian native so he didn't really know anyone. Dolph and him hit it off first. They were best mates as boys and it just sort of grew as they got older," Rabastan's voice had taken on a hint of bitterness that had Hermione looking down at him in surprise. She had rarely ever heard the man sound anything but cheerful.

"Heh… they were more like brothers than me and Dolph were…" The simple statement almost broke Hermione's heart. The dejected way that Rabastan said it, the simple comfort he was seeking from her. He must have been woefully neglected as a boy. His own brother was closer to another, and pureblood parents weren't especially known at being emotionally close.

He must have been terribly lonely.

Reaching out, she began to stroke the man's hair gently. She was protective and nurturing in nature already, and now she just had the innate urge to bring this broken man into her folds as well. And he seemed more than willing to go along for the ride.

He nuzzled himself closer to her and wrapped one of his arms around her waist, attempting to pull himself closer. She smiled slightly as she continued her ministrations on him. He was like a child to her; one that craved affection and attention. And lucky for him, she was willing to give him some.

He was just growing on her at this point.

She must have fallen asleep soon after because when she woke up, her hand was still buried in Rabastan's straight hair and he was dead to the world, his cheek still pressed against her thigh.

She looked around the room and could see a little light coming through the one window above the sink, but otherwise, the room was dark and unoccupied besides the two of them. She had forgotten about Rabastan's roommate last night but this morning she was on high alert for him.

But he was nowhere to be seen. Or even heard. There was no evidence that he had even come in early this morning while the two had been fast asleep. Maybe he just hadn't come back at all. Dark wizards did do most of their business at night anyways. She guessed.

Stretching her arms upward, she heard the sharp crack of her joints as they screamed at her for sleeping in a sitting position on a positively lumpy couch. But her movements stirred the wizard resting on her lap awake and he sat up, looking groggy and confused all at once.

"Whatimeisit?" He asked sleepily and Hermione checked the clock behind them that said 8:26am. She told Rabastan and he nodded slightly. "Mkay. Antonin should be home in like an hour then. Did you want breakfast?"

Startled at the quick procession of information she agreed without much thought as the wizard stood from the couch and stretched his body to the best of his ability. He maneuvered his way around the kitchen for a bit before Hermione felt the feeling return to her legs and tried to stand.

She was a little wobbly, but fine for the most part. She walked into the tiny kitchen and began assisting Rabastan with breakfast. They were doing simple eggs and sausage sandwiches, something even he could do without messing up. And then they sat down at the rickety table to enjoy their meal.

"Thank you," she said quietly before they could even pick up their food. Rabastan looked up at her curiously as she elaborated, "For last night. And well… now."

"That's what friends do, Hermione," he said with a bright smile before biting into his sandwich. Hermione sat regarding him with surprise. Was that what they were now? Friends?

Regardless, she too began to eat without issue as she thought about his words and whatever else was weighing on her mind. And something in particular was.

"What does Dolohov do at night?" She asked after a few bites of the sandwich. Part of her knew that she shouldn't have asked or even wanted to know. But the other, the one that compelled her to speak, wanted answers so desperately that she no longer cared how it could be perceived.

Rabastan regarded her with a grin from above his cup of coffee. "Wouldn't you like to know, little witchling," he teased and Hermione mentally groaned. So much for the bloody answers. She'd just have to wait and find out later.

It was somewhat sad that she was already planning on returning later.


	15. Chapter 15

**_Fifteen_** _– Grimmauld Place – 8:22am_

"Where were you?" She heard the second she walked through the door. Groaning internally, she cursed herself for forgetting about Harry. And the subsequent interrogation that she would now have to deal with.

"I went for a walk," she deflected. There was no way in Merlin's pants that she was ever going to tell Harry about spending the night with Rabastan Lestrange on his couch. Never mind the fact that she went there willingly instead of to her roommate.

"You weren't in your room last night," he told her quietly as she hung up her cloak. She gave him a quirked eyebrow as to why he would know that and he sheepishly said, "I wanted to make sure you weren't having anymore nightmares…"

"Well I was. So I left for a bit," she snapped, instantly regretting it when she saw the hurt on his face.

She sighed lightly and wrapped her arms around her best friend. He instantly hugged her back and she snuggled her face into his shoulder. This is why she loved him. He could be furious at her but the second she needed a friend, he was there. No matter what.

"I'm sorry Harry… I needed a change of scenery so I went to Luna's for the night. Her father's away on a trip and I figured we could keep each other company," she lied easily, knowing that her friend's father was in America and that Luna could be trusted to keep her secrets if need be.

"Oh…" He seemed to digest that for a moment before breaking out into a small smile and rubbing her back in gentle circles. "Sorry for freaking out like that… I'm just worried about you, Mione. You need to be more careful. I don't know what I'd do if something were to happen to you."

"I'm alright Harry. I promise," she lied again. She was far from okay. But Harry wasn't either. And she just wanted one of them to be closer to recovery and if couldn't be her, then she at least wanted it to be him.

"So how was Luna?" He asked as they pulled away.

"Oh, you know. The usual," she threw out, resolving herself that she was going to go visit her quirky friend later that day. She wasn't going to use her as an alibi without at least checking in on her first.

But Harry bought her answer and chuckled merrily as he knew exactly what she meant by usual. He'd always had a soft spot for the Ravenclaw girl. Hermione wished that he would just move in the romantic direction with her and leave Ginny behind but he'd always just assured her that he and Luna were friends.

Speaking of Ginny…

"There's a reason I went to Luna, Harry. Instead of the Weasley's," she started, not knowing quite how she was going to break this news to her friend. He still cared for the Weasley's and to an extent, so did she. But she wasn't going to allow them to treat her badly just because Harry refused to date the youngest.

"Less crowded?" He attempted to jest but at her serious expression his face fell a bit. "What happened?" The sad part was that he most likely had seen this coming.

She briefly explained the situation to him; the words that had been said, the lack of warmth she had been feeling for a while, and how she didn't think she should visit anymore.

"I can talk to them," Harry said, trying to be helpful. _Always the compromiser_ , she thought fondly. But this wasn't something she thought could be talked through. This was deep seated jealousy and personality traits that wouldn't be changed on a whim. And she refused to accept feigned niceties and lies.

It was better off this way anyways.

"It's fine Harry, really. You can still visit them whenever you want. I don't mind. I'm sure I'll find somewhere else to go. Luna's perhaps. I've been missing her these past few weeks. With everything going on she's actually been able to calm me down a lot." Yet another lie. Except this time there was a modicum of truth to the statement. It just wasn't Luna she was referring to.

But she wasn't telling Harry that truth. Not now and probably never.

"I'll visit them occasionally. But keep it short," he told her as they walked arm in arm to the kitchen. "I much prefer spending time with you anyways." He gave her his trademark smile and she couldn't help but smile back.

"Since when?" She teased. "I'm a bossy swot remember?"

"The bossiest and the swottiest. But mine," he said with a lopsided grin that broke Hermione's heart. She hadn't seen it for a while. Not since third year at least. Maybe Harry really was coming back. Her Harry.

"So glad to know that I became yours overnight," she said with a feigned roll of her eyes. Harry laughed as they stepped into the familiar presence of their kitchen.

But it all ended when his face closed up as he looked at the table.

Following his gaze, she spotted the tattered looking owl holding a medium sized parcel attached to its leg. The poor creature was missing an ear and appeared utterly exhausted. There was also a trickle of blood going across their table but Hermione couldn't find any wound on the animal as she approached it.

Taking the parcel from its leg and putting it on their owl post to get food and water, she then went back to the abandoned package on the table. She had found the source of the blood at least. There was a small corner of the brown box that was expanding a few centimeters with fresh blood. The sight chilled Hermione to the bone as she shakily went to open the package.

Harry's hand grabbed her arm but she shook her head. She would find out what Greyback sent her.

She had to.

Opening it with jerky movements, she gazed inside at the disgusting sight of a human heart, covered in dripping and partially dried blood. The aorta was tattered and ripped like it had been forced from the chest it had come from. And with the crazed werewolf, that was a high possibility.

But the disturbing part was the note written on the inside of the lid. " _I'll have yours soon enough_."

She shuddered to think of what he meant. But either way she looked at it, she knew it couldn't be good. Whatever Greyback had in store for her would only end in death or misery. Or both.

Just like it obviously had for her parents.


	16. Chapter 16

**_Sixteen_** _– Lovegood Residence – 10:18am_

Hermione smiled as she watched Luna bounce around her kitchen in a small attempt to clean the curtains. She wouldn't accept any help but Hermione didn't mind. It was kind entertaining to watch the tiny blonde hop from foot to foot, waving her hand in seemingly deliberate motions in an attempt to clean.

"I'm sorry for just showing up," she apologized for what might have been the third time in an hour. But Luna only waved her off with a small grin crossing her face.

"I had a feeling you'd be showing up today. So I made sure to be home instead of going to inspect the Gablins down by the creek."

That was the other funny thing about Luna besides her normal quirks. She just knew.

"A lots been going on, and I wanted to catch up with someone who wouldn't pity or criticize me," Hermione explained, taking a sip from the cold tea the other witch had provided. Surprisingly, it wasn't actually that bad.

She looked up as Luna sat down daintily on the chair in front of her. "You don't need any of those, Hermione. And I certainly won't do you the disservice of either," she airy told her.

"Thanks, Luna."

"But I should tell you that you really need to get rid of that Carnivorous Tenebris."

Raising an eyebrow, Hermione leaned forward as she remembered that, eccentric as Luna was, she was often more insightful than people thought at first glance. She herself had learned that over time and had never written off anymore of Luna's seemingly imaginary creatures. "What's that?"

"They're very dark creatures. Cursed to never be seen by another living soul. Only the dead can see and control them. Most likely someone who died in the war is the cause for its appearance," Luna calmly informed her. Almost like they were discussing the pleasant weather outside instead of some ominous omen.

"Do you know who could have done it?" Hermione asked, still trying to piece together the hidden message that had to be there.

"It would have had to be someone very powerful and dark."

Powerful and dark. The only name coming to mind was Voldemort but it would make more sense for something to be affecting Harry instead of her if that was the case. Unless the maniac had actually realized how detrimental she had been to the Light Side and done something to curse her before death. Or one of his followers had…

Greyback…

He was dark and mildly powerful. That could be what Luna's talking about. He's been stalking her, which means she's had a darkness looming over her. Of course, it all made sense now.

"I'll try to get rid of it," she told the other girl, but paused when she shook her head sadly.

"Tenebris are very deadly, Hermione. You'll have to be very careful. But most of all, you'll need help from someone equally as dark and powerful."

"Equally as dark and powerful," she echoed. Like Rabastan Lestrange? That was the only person she could think of who might help her. But… he didn't even have a wand. Hermione wanted to bury her face in her hands. How had her life gotten so out of control when it was supposed to be getting better?

Maybe he could convince Dolohov to help her?

She physically shook her head at the stupidity of that thought. She never wanted to see that man if she could help it. He still radiated danger that she wasn't about to ignore. And being indebted to him was the last thing she ever wanted.

Looking down as she felt a cold hand patting her own, she saw Luna smile happily as she said, "Don't worry too much about it. Everything will work out in the end. Hopefully."

Hermione couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity that was her friend. She was just too kind and helpful in her own special way.

"I hope you're right Luna… I'm just worried about my parents. That heart…" she shivered as she remembered Harry coming back that night and sorrowfully telling her that it matched the DNA found from her mother's finger. Her mother was officially labeled as deceased. The only thing stopping her from losing it completely was the sliver of hope she held onto about the state of her father.

He might still be alive for the time being.

Having this knowledge and the promise from Harry that he would make her case top priority at the department, she attempted to continue her day to day without incident. She still privately mourned the loss of her mother, but having erased their memories almost a year ago and accepting that she may never see or have them again… She had lost them long ago in the emotional sense.

"You'll be stronger in the end. I'm sure of it," the girl told her as she took a sip from her own drink. Hermione smiled slightly at her words. She wasn't wrong, not in the slightest. All of this only served to fuel her mission of ridding the world of Fenrir Greyback.

"Just be careful, Hermione. A lot of people care about you. And you'll live to experience great times. Especially with those Nargles hanging around."

"I have Nargles too?" She asked with a laugh.

"Oh yes. They're very much interested in your love life. I'm sure they're just waiting for the moment to swoop in and cause mischief. It is in their nature, after all," she dreamily replied.

"I'll be sure to watch out for them. My love life is pretty nonexistent at the moment anyways," she said with a light sigh as she rested her elbows on the table.

Luna looked almost surprised by her statement so Hermione asked a quick, "What?"

"I thought after you and Harry had moved in together that you too had come to the terms that you were now an item. But I may have been wrong. Humdingers have been buzzing around this time of year and I get so distracted with them."

"Harry and I are just friends, Luna. I'm living with him because neither of us wanted to be alone or with anyone else," she explained, almost defensively, even to her ears. But Luna didn't reply. Only smiled softly and left Hermione with the feeling that she also knew that those words weren't entirely true after all this time.

Somewhere along the way, she and Harry had begun to move past their once safely defined roles are friends and traversed into something foreign and unknown.

Something neither of them had yet to bring up or possibly even acknowledge.


	17. Chapter 17

**_Seventeen_** _– Grimmauld Place – 9:46pm_

Hermione stood clutching the wooden table with shaking fists. She had kept up the hope for so long. She had refused to admit defeat. But this… this was the last straw.

On the table in front of her was another plain brown box with blood seeping out of it. She had only opened it a crack but the image of another torn out human heart was the solitary thing she could see when her eyes closed.

Turning and rushing to the sink, she vomited the few sips of tea she had already had that morning into it. Her stomach continued to churn even though it was relatively empty as she turned on the water in an attempt to splash some onto her face.

She needed to wake up.

This had to dream. It couldn't possibly be her reality, could it?

But the sinking feeling of dread told her that it was. Both of her parents were most likely dead, tortured and sent to her piece by piece. Greyback's latest note barely even phased her as she remembered the brief message, " _Tonight, you will be mine forever_."

Now that her parents were dead and fear had been properly induced in her, he would come for her. The thought barely even registered as she spun from the sink and rushed out of the kitchen. She wouldn't be here when he arrived. She would make sure Harry stayed somewhere safe and then she would disappear for a while. No one else needed to get hurt because of her if she could help it.

And she was _not_ giving into the monster.

Grabbing her cloak and throwing it over her shoulders, she stepped outside and apparated to the one place that actually managed to fill her with some semblance of safety anymore. Why a pair of Death Eater's apartment resembled such a place didn't even matter anymore. It was now just a priority of hers to no longer feel vulnerable and afraid.

She knocked on the door frantically, wanting to just get inside and have her feelings of dread pushed aside by the smiling and friendly face of Rabastan. And when the door opened, she immediately launched herself at the man behind it, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing herself into his hard chest. He was a warm and solid presence that immediately began to calm her pulsing heartrate.

But then it began to register to her that usually Rabastan smelled like cologne and spices. This chest smelled distinctly like woods and... whiskey. And Rabastan had never hesitated in wrapping his arms around her and giving her the comfort she craved. This man stood rigid with his arms still hanging down by his sides.

Realizing her mistake, she slowly unwrapped herself and stepped back to stare up into the annoyed and most decidedly befuddled face of Antonin Dolohov.

"Um…" She mumbled slowly, holding out the sound as the two stared uncomfortably at each other. "Sorry," she offered with true apology. She hadn't meant to just attack him like that. Honestly, she assumed it would be Rabastan who opened the door. He'd been the only one home the last time she had come around.

Maybe she just thought Dolohov was rarely there?

"What are you doing here?" His low voice asked with curiosity lacing his words. She focused on him a bit more. She had never heard him say much but he had a certain something that made him sound enchanting to the ears. Almost like how Professor Snape had once been.

"I was looking for Rabastan," she said, feeling herself heat up a bit at her words. She had just admitted to Dolohov that she had come looking for his roommate and had planned on hugging him in such a way that she had with him mistakenly.

"He's out," was the crisp reply she received.

"Oh," she replied stupidly. Hermione didn't know what to do now. She had come rushing here in a fit of panic and anxiety and now stood in the hallway staring at a man who most likely despised her entire existence. And that was all she could say.

But then the wizard did something that shocked Hermione to the core. "Did you want to come in?"

Her eyes flew back up to his, wide eyed and surprised. Had he really just asked what it sounded like he had? Was he serious? He was going to let her into his home, without his roommate there to pressure him into accepting it? Was this a trick? Had someone taken Polyjuice and was pretending to be the Death Eater to lure her into trap to be caught by the werewolves or, worse, the Ministry?

"Or just stand there all night. Whichever." She refocused onto the situation as the man walked away from the open doorway and back into his apartment. Finding her feet moving after him, she closed the door behind her before standing awkwardly in the middle of the dining room as she watched him rummage around the kitchen.

He seemed to be going through a few cupboards before coming across what he had been searching for. A full bottle of Firewhiskey. He grabbed two glasses and sat them on the table. Hermione watched, mesmerized, as Dolohov gripped the cork of the bottle between his teeth and deftly yanked it off before pouring the amber liquid into the two cups.

He sat down at one of the chairs and motioned to the one across from him. She wordlessly sat and quickly took ahold of the glass in front of her, wanting something to hold onto to prevent her from shaking. She took a quick sip before choking on it.

Looking up, she caught the brief flash of amusement cross the man's face before he took a long drink from his own cup. Deciding to do as he did, she actually took a drink of the burning whiskey and found that it actually became more manageable that way. It hurt like hell, but it left a pleasant burning sensation instead of her being a sputtering mess.

They sat like that for a long time, just occasionally taking a drink from their respective glasses, pouring more, and getting marvelously more relaxed. After a while, Hermione barely even took notice of the fact that her parents had both been horrifically murdered by a stalking beast that was obsessed with her and now sat in the private home of a different known murderer who had actually tried to kill her in the past.

Liquor was a wonderful thing.

"Why were you crying?" The only other person in the room asked her quietly. It had taken her a moment to even realize that he had spoken. But the question caught her off guard. Why did he even care?

She asked him as much. But his response was a lie. She could tell by the way it took him a minute to respond.

"I don't."

It was too delayed, too forced sounding. Somewhere inside of him, Hermione knew that Dolohov actually cared why she had been crying. And the thought scared and warmed her all at once.

"Greyback murdered my parents," she told him after a brief silence had passed between them. She didn't know what compelled her to spill that truth, but she was also drunk and wanted someone to talk to.

"I see…"

"But you don't even care. I bet you're just glad to see two more Muggles dead," she drunkenly told him. That was the other downside about Firewhiskey; it opened her mouth too much.

"You wouldn't be wrong," he told her, looking her straight in the eye as he did. She couldn't even believe him! But then again, what else did she expect from a psychotic murderer. Sympathy?

"But… I understand how you must be feeling," he continued, pouring himself another drink.

"No you don't," she muttered, staring into her half empty glass. "You'll never know how it feels to lose the most important people in the world to you."

"I've already lost them, Granger. Don't insult me by suggesting otherwise."

Turning her gaze back to him, she watched as he swirled his cup around a bit before taking a long swig of it. "You've lost someone close to you?" She asked slowly, continuing to watch him carefully as she did.

"Both of my parents passed shortly after I graduated from Hogwarts."

"I'm sorry…" She said, actually meaning it. She couldn't help that she felt that way, even with people who probably didn't deserve it. "What happened?"

He took another long pause and Hermione thought he just wouldn't answer this time. Until he did. "My mother was brutally murdered by a horde of Muggles. My father, after ridding the world of those beasts, killed himself before he could be thrown into Azkaban by the Ministry."

Was that why he despised Muggles? She could sort of understand it. Except that not all of them were like that. Her parents weren't. They were innocent and had been killed anyways.

"But they were important to you? Your parents, I mean."

He went a bit somber as he nodded slightly, "Yes. My mother was an amazing witch. She was a rare type of pureblood. One with compassion and charity and warmth to give to anyone. She stole my father's heart with her kindness and even made him into a better man. While he maintained superiority and blood purity, he was… less violent about it, due to my mother's influence."

"I was their only child. And I was their world as much as they were mine."

Hermione's heart caught in her throat as she watched the wizard in front of her deflate a bit, obviously remembering his past life. Before war, before death, before pain.

"Is that why you drink?" She didn't know why she asked that. But it was weighing on her mind, and she thought that maybe it was the reason. She also didn't have much of a filter at the moment.

"One of them," he vaguely replied before taking another drink.

She didn't know why she found this man so intriguing. But everything he told her only made her crave to know more. Even as she found herself drowning in the alcohol provided to her, her only goal was figuring out the man in front of her.

Rabastan, Greyback, and even her parents were long forgotten.


	18. Chapter 18

**_Eighteen_** _– Apartment of Antonin Dolohov and Rabastan Lestrange – 9:34am_

Hermione awoke to the glare of the morning sun beating in through a dusty screen directly into her eyes. Attempting to move her arm to block it, she found that she couldn't. There was a weight on top of her that was preventing her from shifting most parts of her body.

Ignoring the pounding in her head that was screaming at her to just go back to sleep and pretend that nothing was happening, she craned her neck to try to figure out what was stopping her from getting up.

The sight of wavy brown hair greeted her almost immediately.

Panicking, Hermione thought long and hard to try to figure out where the hell she was and who was completely covering her in that moment. The only conclusion she kept coming up with was the memory of leaving Grimmauld Place and rushing to Rabastan's apartment.

Only he hadn't been home…

But his roommate had.

Glimpses of amber liquid and a disinterested face kept coming back to her in pieces before she suddenly realized that she had gotten pissed drunk the night before with Antonin bloody Dolohov! And obviously she was still there and they were… sleeping together.

Had they actually _slept_ together? Did she shag him? Did she _want_ to shag him? All these questions and more kept pouring into her mind one right after the other and Hermione thought she was close to having an existential crisis before a drowsy voice appeared from beside her.

"Can you please _stop_ thinking so loudly? It's giving me a bloody headache."

"You sure it's not just from all the drinking we did last night," she angrily snapped back. The bed creaked under the strain of Dolohov maneuvering up onto his elbows to glare down at her. She tried desperately to pay attention to her annoyance of the situation instead of how much she wanted to touch his sleep ridden hair or run her fingers over the thick hair around his jaw.

She definitely had a problem.

"I've plenty experience drinking, thanks. Now shut up," he hissed before sliding back down into his previously occupied place. Except that place was still on top of her!

"Getoffofme!" She squealed as she began flopping her legs in a futile attempt to buck him off of her. Turns out that's a lot harder to do. He had at least four stone on her. Not to mention the height difference.

"Merlin, Granger," she heard him groan in irritation. "Stop being such a bloody child."

"What?" She yelled in anger, still trying to push him off of her with her free hand. But in her moment of distraction, he ended up having the perfect opportunity to grab that arm and place it back underneath of him.

But that also caused his face to wind up right at the meeting of her shoulder and neck. Hermione could feel his hot breath racing along it. She began squirming but not just to get away from him. The rush of heat between her legs was a more pressing matter.

"Antonin, didja bring a bird home last night without me knowing?" A new, teasing voice appeared from behind the door to the room. It opened suddenly and Hermione was left staring up at a shocked Rabastan as Dolohov's arm across her curled more securely around her and a brief breath of laughter escaped from him, skating across her neck.

"Hermione?" The wizard in the doorway asked tentatively. "What are you doing in Antonin's bed?"

"I'm not here by choice, trust me," she growled out, beginning the fruitless tugging of her limbs again, attempting to annoy Dolohov enough for him to let her go. No such luck though.

Especially when the voice by her ear husked out, "You came willing enough last night. Again and again." The shivers that ran through her caused him to chuckle lightly, the rumbling passing straight through her. Why, just why, did he have to attract her? Why couldn't he be ugly or vile or lewd? It just wasn't fair.

"We didn't sleep together," she insisted a bit too hastily. She couldn't even figure out who she was telling that to; him, Rabastan, or herself.

"We're still sleeping together," he said cheekily, and she knew in that moment that he was just playing with her. He was actually getting off on annoying her and causing her this current discomfort! She knew that he was still a sadist despite his strange behavior last night.

"Did you two shag?" Rabastan asked slowly, still eyeing them with slight distaste as he bounced impatiently from one foot to the other. Hermione thought he greatly resembled a small child waiting on his parents to get up but dismissed it from her mind when that implied that she and Dolohov were a couple.

" _No_."

"Yes."

Hermione flailed helplessly beneath the infuriating man as she screeched, "We did not shag!"

She heard him huff slightly as she continued to squirm frantically underneath of his heavy frame. She didn't pause until his voice appeared next to her ear again, this time full of exhaustion instead of a teasing lilt. "Salazar help me… You're a pest, Granger."

And then he was rolling off of her and letting her fall to the floor.

Rabastan was at her side before she could register what had happened and helped her off of the dusty carpeted floor. She went to glare at the man still in the bed but froze when she was met with the sight of his naked chest.

Sputtering in a mixture of fury and confusion, she ended up turning away when she caught the spreading smirk on his face. Heat flooded her cheeks and caused her to stomp angrily from the room with Rabastan following close behind her.

The door to Dolohov's room snapped shut and she was heading to the stove to start the tea, knowing that she was going to need it if she wanted the chance to calm down.

"So… are you going to tell me about that or do I have to start the painful process of trying to pull it from Antonin?" Rabastan asked her after a few minutes of tense silence had passed between them.

"We got drunk last night," she mumbled as she poured them both a cup.

Rabastan snorted derisively before saying, "Yeah, I caught that much. The empty bottles and glasses were enough of a tell. But I didn't realize it was you until I opened his door."

"Does he often bring home random women?" She asked, instantly regretting it because it made her sound too interested. She didn't give two shits about Dolohov. Did she?

"Mmm, no," the wizard across from her said thoughtfully. "But he goes out a lot and usually I just assume he's getting some action. Or maybe he secretly loves men and is afraid of making me jealous."

Hermione almost spit her tea out onto him as he erupted into a fit of giggles. "Kidding, kidding… Maybe. I don't know about Antonin some days. He's so… secretive," Rabastan paused for dramatic effect and luckily Hermione had already swallowed because this time she really did burst out into laughter.

"Maybe he's joined a cult?" She offered teasingly.

"Nah," the wizard dismissed before taking a drink. "He's probably just getting drunk at different bars. Change of scenery is nice sometimes. And probably less depressing."

"Where were you last night?" She asked suddenly, remembering that Dolohov had simply told her that he was out. But seeing as these two rarely seemed to know where the other was, she was better off getting it from the source.

"Just exploring the town a bit," he said too quickly for her taste. She couldn't tell if he was lying but he definitely wasn't telling her the complete truth. But she didn't press him.

"But you never told me why you showed up here last night," he countered as he took another sip of his tea.

Hermione sat staring down at her tea for a moment. She had been able to push it all aside last night but now it was all rushing back to her. "Greyback's murdered both of my parents."

Then there was a hand reaching across the table and gripping hers in silent support. She looked up and saw the teary eyes of a wizard she once believed to be dangerous and sociopathic. But if Rabastan could feel empathy…

Well then that must mean he wasn't so bad, right?


	19. Chapter 19

_A/N: Fanvideo for this story is now up for Halloween on my tumblr: thriftycrimson_

* * *

 ** _Nineteen_** _– Apartment of Antonin Dolohov and Rabastan Lestrange – 10:00am_

"Hermione…" She heard Rabastan say slowly, a touch of concern in his voice.

"Hmm?" She didn't look up from the stove as she listened for his response from somewhere behind her.

"I don't think this is a good outlet for your sadness," he issued carefully, probably worried that she might turn around and hex him if she took his words the wrong way. But he was wrong, this was helping. Sort of.

"It's getting my energy into something other than crying and wallowing. How isn't it a good outlet?" She questioned a bit too harshly. Turning slightly, she took in the sight of a worried Rabastan next to her as he watched her cook breakfast.

"I mean… if this is how you wanna do it, love, I won't stop you."

"Good," she remarked pleasantly and flipped the eggs over as an act of finality.

Rabastan remained quiet as she continued cooking to the best of her abilities, eventually ending up with her filling up three different plates full of food. Setting them down on the table, she only looked up from her foggy concentration as Dolohov walked through the door of his bedroom, thankfully wearing a button-up long sleeve.

He looked down at the dining room table with a raised brow. When he met her gaze, she narrowed her eyes at him and silently dared him to say something. But he didn't. Only stepped forward and took his usual seat.

Hermione huffed out a breath before doing the same and noticed that after a brief hesitation, Rabastan followed suit. The three of them sat silently at the table as they ate. Not even the normally talkative wizard had anything to say. His eyes were planted firmly on the plate in front of him as he appeared in deep thought.

The other, normally quiet one only appeared disinterested with the going-ons around him as he ate. And Hermione cursed her eyes for constantly being drawn to him. But it was his own fault for giving her such mixed signals. She had no idea what happened last night past a certain point. She had no recollection of how she ended up in his bed, which meant she probably wouldn't have known if the two of them went any further than just sleeping.

But wouldn't that be considered sexual assault? Had Dolohov taken advantage of her? She didn't physically _feel_ any different, but she was hardly a virgin so would she even be able to tell?

Did she have bruises? Briefly glancing down at her bare sleeves, she didn't see anything out of the ordinary. And the only part of her body that really hurt was her head, but after the amount of alcohol that she consumed, that was to be expected.

So then what the devil happened last night?

Should she just ask him? Would he even tell her the truth or give her a straight answer? Somehow she doubted it. He wasn't exactly known for it and this was probably the most fun he had had in months.

"Hermione…" The sound of her name being called brought her out of her own mind and she looked over to see Rabastan's worried face back again. The three of them were all finished eating and with a wave of his wand, Dolohov banished everything to the tiny sink but none of them made any move to stand.

"What is it?" She asked as nicely as she could muster. She watched the wizard frown deeply before looking over to his roommate. Dolohov only flicked his eyes over and shrugged one shoulder before looking back off into some space to the right of her.

"There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about, it's uh… It's about that scar on your arm," he phrased delicately, gauging her reactions carefully as he did.

Hermione glanced down at her arm and saw that the scar she had received at Malfoy Manor earlier that year was proudly on display since she had pushed up the sleeves of her jumper to cook and eat with more ease.

The ugly carving of the racist slur towards her was a deep red contrasting to her pale skin and the mar only brought back memories of times that she would much rather forget.

"What about it?" She asked slowly, trying to regain control of her emotions yet again.

"Do you, well, do you remember what kind of blade Bella used?" He forced out quickly, wincing slightly when she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Why does it matter?" She responded hotly.

"Put your claws away and answer the damn question Granger," Dolohov muttered in annoyance, still not looking at her. Her glare was only ignored and she took a deep breath to calm herself.

"It was small," she started, not wanting to remember it but still wanting to answer him nonetheless. "The hilt was black and had a gem of some sort in the center of it. I didn't get a good enough look at it."

"I'm… I'm really sorry to ask you this, Hermione, but… What did it feel like?" Rabastan continued carefully, still watching her to see if and when he crossed a line of no return.

"What did it feel like?" She repeated in disbelief, not knowing why it suddenly mattered all of a sudden. "Well it didn't feel _good_ , Rabastan. It felt like some psychotic _bitch_ was carving into my arm!"

"I told you that she wouldn't appreciate that question," Dolohov said with a short glance over at his roommate.

"What are you two getting at?" She asked angrily, looking in between the two Death Eaters. They exchanged looks yet again before Rabastan swallowed nervously and began to answer her.

"We think that Bella used a cursed blade on you," he explained slowly. "She was pretty fond of them, but the one you described was one of her favorites. It transferred a bit of dark magic into the blood of whoever it cut."

"So?" She didn't see the big deal. Bellatrix Lestrange was a madwoman who served an equally crazy madman. Nothing about them would make sense.

Dolohov muttered something in Russian as he rolled his eyes and Hermione knew that he was insulting her in one way or another. Opening her mouth to shout something equally offensive at him, she was only cut off by Rabastan's voice.

"It means that you have dark magic inside of you, Hermione. That's… that's not good for someone like you," he expressed urgently, most likely wanting her to understand whatever severity he believed the situation had.

"Someone like me? You mean a Mudblood?" She accused.

"No, you stupid chit," Dolohov rasped out, quickly gaining her full attention. "For someone from the Light Side. For an idiotic girl with no knowledge of how the world works. For a bloody _Gryffindor_."

"It just means," Rabastan started, interrupting whatever fight was about to break out between the two of them, "that you've got darkness inside of you right now. And it explains what's been going on with you."

That part intrigued her enough to stop glaring daggers at the Russian wizard. "What?"

"Haven't you noticed any strangeness since the war, Hermione? Feelings you didn't have before, morals that don't make sense but ones you stand by anyways?"

Now that he mentioned it… She did. She thought it was nothing more than a combination of depression and anxiety and possibly even PTSD but… it was more than that. So much more. She often didn't feel in control, to the point that she didn't even feel like _herself_. She had planned to murder Dolohov for the death of her parents instead of letting him rot in a jail cell. The old Hermione wouldn't have done that, would she? The old Hermione wouldn't seek comfort with Death Eaters.

Was this the answer? Because she had a darkness inside of her?

"It also explains why you also come here whenever you experience a strong emotional reaction," the low voice of Dolohov added.

Hermione looked up at him in confusion and quickly took notice that his face had soften ever so slightly as he explained, "You're altered magical energy is displaced by the pureness of your friends and coworkers. But it finds solace with something similar to it. To Rabastan and I."

"You mean… I come here, to you two, because the darkness inside of me wants to be close to the darkness in you?"

"That's exactly what we're saying," Rabastan said sadly, looking down as he did. "Antonin and I have been trying to figure it out for days now." He quickly added, "It's not because we don't enjoy your company, it's just… you can see the oddness of the situation, can't you?"

She nodded and stared wide-eyed at the table in front of her. It all made sense now. Why she did the things that couldn't be explain, why she felt so strongly towards the two of them. Rabastan was genuinely nice and Dolohov… she still didn't know yet, but she wasn't necessarily afraid of him anymore. But she continued trying to get closer to them because of this magical nonsense inside of her.

Even now, knowing what the cause of it was, she didn't bring herself to leave. She didn't see anything wrong with it. She could manage both the light and the dark inside of her. It was just another hurdle in her life at this point, and certainly not her priority. She'd be fine. _Right_?


	20. Chapter 20

_A/N: New fanvideo for this story up on my tumblr: thriftycrimson_

* * *

 ** _Chapter Twenty –_** _Apartment of Antonin Dolohov and Rabastan Lestrange – 7:34pm_

Hermione knocked soundly on the door and waited several seconds before hearing the excited bounding the came from across the room straight to the door. It opened moments later and Rabastan's beaming face greeted her.

"What took you so long?" He asked as she walked into his shared apartment. She looked over and found Dolohov in his usual armchair with a bottle of Muggle whiskey in hand.

"Got caught up at work," she murmured as she watched the dark wizard for several seconds longer than was probably appropriate. But he soon turned and briefly acknowledged her before going back to his drink.

For some reason, that was an accomplishment in Hermione's book.

"I missed you," Rabastan said mournfully as he attempted to regain her attention. She was quickly learning that he had periods of time where he wanted to be the sole focus of a person. And she suspected that with Dolohov, it wasn't that possible.

"It's only been two days," she lightly chastised as she dropped the bags of groceries she had brought with her onto the dining room table. Two days now, but almost an entire month since they told her why she was acting so strange lately.

She found that she preferred it here, in their apartment. Rabastan had no problem with it and relished the opportunity to see and talk to her. Dolohov was… warming up to the idea, she supposed. It was hard to tell with him. But he didn't outright oppose it so she guessed that was a positive sign?

"Two days too long," he whined as he trailed behind her in the kitchen. His eyes were purposely widened and sad looking until she took pity on him and wrapped him in one of his favorite kinds of hugs. Rabastan must have not been touched affectionately much as a child because once he hugged you, he wouldn't let go for a longer period of time than most hugs usually lasted.

So Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and placed her hands against his shoulders and upper back while his went around her waist and pulled her close. She rubbed him in soothing circles as he took deep, filling breaths, slowly relaxing in her grasp.

"Feel better?" She whispered into his ear. He nodded from his place against her shoulder and pulled away a bit to smile gratefully down at her. She patted him affectionately before turning to go back to putting the various products away.

"I bought a few extras that I thought you two would enjoy," she commented as she reached the end of her bags. Apparently peaking the interest of both men, they turned to look at her as she held up a bottle of hot sauce in one hand and a bag of Muggle chocolates in the other. "Spicy for Rabastan, sweet for Dolohov."

Rabastan made a girlish squeal and took the bottle from her to inspect it while Dolohov eyed her in surprise for a moment before quietly thanking her. She couldn't help but grin smugly as she continued to endear herself further to these two.

She could also see the irony in the two liking these types of food. Rabastan was childish and over excitable while Dolohov was the serious and biting type. But their taste in food happened to be completely reversed and she found that fact completely adorable.

"I also got more whiskey," she added as she put that away in Dolohov's favorite cabinet for it. "You should have seen the looks the cashier gave me."

"Did you tell them it was for your friend's alcoholic roommate? Or did you lie and say Antonin was your boyfriend?" Rabastan said with a cheeky grin. She couldn't help but snort out a laugh at the thought and the two continued to giggle while Dolohov specifically ignored them.

She moved into the living room and sat with her feet tucked underneath of her on the couch while Rabastan plopped himself right next to her. He rested against her shoulder as she took a drink of the water she had brought with her.

Watching Dolohov out of the corner of her eye, she saw him grimace slightly when Rabastan sat next to her before turning away and taking another long drink. Hermione had been trying to learn the man's brief facial expressions but in true Slytherin fashion, it was better in theory than in practice. He was still a total enigma.

Sometimes she wished she would come over when it was just him there. She desperately wanted to talk about that night when they got drunk and ended up in bed together. She decided that they hadn't slept together and instead wanted to know what _had_ happened. They had clearly continued to talk and at some point either she had gone to his room willingly or he had carried her. But either situation, it was something they had to talk about eventually.

At least, _she_ felt that way. Dolohov probably wanted to forget it.

"Mione," Rabastan held out, using his utterly childlike voice that caused her to giggle in disbelief. He was a grown man, well into his thirties, but he sounded like a toddler sometimes.

"Yes, Bastan?" She indulged, almost cracking another laugh at the sight of Dolohov rolling his eyes in the corner.

"Will you pet my hair? It feels nice when you do."

She bit her lip to stop from laughing and instead wound her arm up and around his shoulders to reach the back of his head. He really did have soft, thin hair that just fell like a curtain. She curled strands around her fingers and scraped her fingernails against his scalp like she knew he liked and listened as the man practically purred at her ministrations.

She looked up and met the dark gaze of Dolohov as he watched the pair out of the corner of his eye. She couldn't decipher what the look on his face was before he was taking yet another drink and looking away from them, going back to his own thoughts.

Her and Rabastan sat like that for a while until the man's head drooped over and he was fast asleep with his head in her lap. She couldn't help but smile at the sight he made.

"Should you really be encouraging him so much?" The low voice from the corner of the room asked all of a sudden. She looked up and saw that he wasn't even looking at her but the question was still directed at him.

"I don't know what you mean."

"He adores you. But this," he waved his hand towards them in emphasis, "this won't last for very long."

"What makes you say that?" She asked with genuine curiosity.

"We never planned to stay in Britain for longer than necessary," he cryptically told her. But that didn't answer anything. If anything, it just caused more questions.

"What are you two doing here then?"

He swirled the liquid in his glass around for a moment before saying, "It's not for me to say. Ask Rabastan if you're so concerned."

Ignoring the feelings of annoyance that spurned up, she decided to use this opportunity as a chance to talk to him about what she had wanted to for a while now. "About that night…" She started.

"There are many nights, Granger. Be more specific."

"The one where we got drunk and woke up in bed together," she shot out, slowly getting more and more infuriated with the wizard. That seemed to get his attention though because he actually looked over at her.

"And?"

"And I want to know what happened after I blacked out."

"What was the last thing you remember?" He asked politely, throwing her off guard as his openness of the situation.

"I remember talking to you about Hogwarts, and a little bit about Russia before there's just nothing until the next morning," she said, recalling the last pieces her memory had actually filled in.

But the smirk on his face wasn't comforting in the slightest.

"So you don't remember throwing yourself at me?"

Her mouth fell open in shock. "I did not," she hissed out, trying not to wake the man resting on her thighs.

"You don't remember begging to join me in my bed?" He continued, taking another drink of whiskey as she sputtered slightly.

She couldn't have done that, could she? But, she _was_ attracted to him and alcohol _did_ loosen inhibitions…

"You're lack of response tells me that it's in the realm of possibility."

She shook her head to clear her thoughts, "I think I would remember something like that."

"So you don't remember trying to kiss me either?" He asked with feigned innocence.

"I… What?"

"You got much drunker than I did. But I didn't let you make too much of a fool of yourself. After you tried to attack me with your lips, I did the gentlemanly thing and put you to bed. But you wouldn't agree to sleep without me staying with you. Which led to the unfortunate circumstances the following morning," he explained in disinterest.

"So when you implied that we had sex," she started, forming a question in the statement.

He met her eye and raised one of his brows, "I'm a Slytherin, Granger. And I didn't like being made to look like the one at fault." So he had been messing with her because of the way she had reacted?

"Oh because you're so innocent," she sarcastically replied.

"In that case? Yes. I was. If anything, my poor sensibilities were compromised by _your_ provocative and aggressive behavior," he said flippantly.

"You're a git, did you know that?" She muttered as she brushed a few strands of hair off of Rabastan's forehead.

"It's come up once or twice."

 _Git_.


	21. Chapter 21

**_Twenty-One_** _– Grimmauld Place – 10:58pm_

Hermione tiptoed back into the rickety old house slowly, carefully not to make too much noise that could alert Harry to her late arrival. Hopefully he would already be in his room and her cause would be for nothing, but she wasn't taking any chances.

He really didn't need to know about her late night escapades and he especially didn't need to know where _exactly_ it was that she went.

Creeping past the living area, she made her way into the kitchen for a quick cuppa before bed. Except when she opened the door, she was faced with the very roommate she had been trying to avoid.

"Evening," he said as he took in her stunned form. "Late night at the office again? You should have a talk with Mr. Weasley about all this overtime," he lightheartedly spoke, not even questioning that she had been anywhere else.

"Um," she started before regaining her bearings, "Yes, you're right. I probably should. That or ask for more bodies to fill the offices. Merlin knows I can't do _everything_ by myself."

"That's true. But we both have that silly little problem of thinking that we can," Harry said as he stood from the table. "Don't be angry, but I was waiting up for you."

"Why?" She asked a little too harshly. Softening her expression, she instead took on a neutral look as Harry looked down nervously at his feet.

"Greyback and his pack have been spotted in the area. Near Yorkshire," he regretfully informed her. Hermione took several deep breaths as she thought this revelation through. She already knew Greyback would be coming after her, so that wasn't anything knew. But Yorkshire was a lot closer than she had anticipated.

Did he even know where she was? Did he have spies inside of wizarding London?

Was this something she could ask Rabastan or Dolohov about?

"Hermione?" Harry asked suddenly, interrupting her mental debate. She looked up at him expectantly but found herself in his friendly embrace instead. "It'll be alright," he muttered into her hair. "You'll be alright, I swear."

"Oh, Harry," she sighed out. "Thank you. I know you'll do everything in your power to help me."

He smiled brightly and for a second, when he leaned a bit closer, she wondered if he meant to actually kiss her. But he swayed backwards and just continued smiling. "You're my best friend, Hermione. I'll never let you down for as long as I can help it."

"I love you Harry," she murmured softly as she pressed her lips against his smooth cheek. When she pulled away, she saw something on his face that she could remember seeing there before but never had any idea of what it was. Even now, she had no idea.

"I love you too, Mione," he whispered as he returned the kiss to her own cheek. But his felt much more… intimate than her familiar one.

Pulling away from him and interrupting whatever moment it was that they were possibly having, she moved into the kitchen and started the tea kettle.

"Did you want a cup?" She asked politely. Looking over at him, she took in the slightly disappointed expression before he plastered on a grin and nodded.

The two sat at the dining room table for about an hour or so, drinking tea and just catching up with one another. Hermione felt a bit guilty at having ignored Harry for the past few weeks, but he had been keeping himself busy at work.

And also with ignoring the Weasley women too.

"I caved and went over for lunch the other day," he admitted to her, looking quite ashamed of the fact. "I was hoping that it would just be normal, but…"

"What happened?" She expressed, concerned as she saw his defeated expression.

He met her eye and blurted out, "All they did was badmouth you! I couldn't even believe it until I heard it for myself. Even Mr. Weasley looked shock and tried to come to your defense as well but Mrs. Weasley and Ginny just wouldn't… stop. And George just looked confused and sad and everything was bloody awful, Mione."

"Sounds like it," she said with a deep exhale. She had seen that coming at least. After what had happened between the women, she knew they would try to rope Harry into the drama as well.

"I never want to go back," Harry grumbled, a bit of anger flashing in his eyes. "If they can't respect you… Well then I can't respect them."

"Harry you don't have to-" She tried to say but her roommate was hearing nothing of it.

"No. Loyalty is important. And you've always been there for me, even when no one else was. So I'm going to do the same for you."

Tearing up a bit, she took his hand from across the hand and squeezed it. "I'll always be there for you too, Harry."

"What are friend's for, right?" He jested and the pair broke out into laughter.

"True… Well, we had better get to bed. Both of us have work tomorrow morning," she said as she looked up at the large clock on the way. Harry followed her gaze and sighed before nodding his head.

"Yeah, you're right. I had just forgotten how much fun it was to sit in the kitchen with you and talk till the early hours of the morning," he expressed as he squeezed her hand as well before releasing her and standing from the table.

Following suit, the two friends smiled at each other before wishing the other goodnight. As they went to their separate rooms and settled in for the night, Hermione began plotting the conversation she was going to have with Rabastan and Dolohov eventually. She needed to ask them what they knew about Greyback.

And she needed to figure out why the two of them were even in London in the first place.

 _All before Christmas_ , she thought with a mental groan.


	22. Chapter 22

**_Twenty-Two_** _– Apartment of Antonin Dolohov and Rabastan Lestrange – 11:36pm_

Knocking on the heavy wooden door, Hermione shifted from foot to foot as she impatiently waited for the door to open. She had decided that this would be the night that she asked about Greyback and possibly even figure out why these two had come back from the security of Russia.

After telling Harry that she was going to spend the night at Luna's and begging the blonde to lie for her if need be, she had apparated to the Muggle suburb where the Death Eaters resided.

Nobody answered at first and Hermione began fretting of what she would do if neither of them were home.

"Please," she mumbled out loud to herself. "Please be home. Even Dolohov. I'd take Dolohov over no one."

Knocking a bit louder, she waited a few minutes and when it felt as though all hope was lost, she could hear the latch on the opposite slide out of place and the knob twisted before the hunk of wood moved out of the way and she was left staring up at an obviously woken and very annoyed Dolohov.

Was this why it wasn't wise to wake sleeping bears? Because the chill that had just gone down her spine was warning her to back away slowly and run as fast as her feet could carry her.

But running from bears was a bad idea in the first place.

"Um…" Was all she could say as her mind blanked on what to do. She shouldn't have said that she'd take Dolohov over no one. This was her penance for that.

"Do you own a clock?" His voice rasped out, still covered with the sleep he had most likely been enjoying before she had interrupted it. Nodding her head slightly, he sneered before leaning closer to her, "Then _utilize_ it."

He made to go back into the apartment and slam the door shut but Hermione pushed her way in the doorway first, ending up pressed against the man's chest in the process. His glare should have been the last warning but she was passed caring. If he was going to kill her then he'd just be saving her from whatever unimaginable torture Greyback had planned for her.

"Granger," he growled out.

Looking up at him with pleading eyes, she uttered, "Please let me stay. Please?"

He seemed taken aback by her request and she watched as his brows furrowed in thought as he stared down at her. She hoped with every fiber of her being that he would just give in.

And he did.

After exhaling harshly, he took a step back, removing the warmth that she had just gotten accustomed to, before walking back into his living space. Closing the door behind her, Hermione followed, wondering if he was the only one home.

As it turns out, he was. There was no sign of life in the place besides Dolohov. The man headed for his bedroom and Hermione couldn't figure out what compelled her to follow him like a baby duck but she did.

When they had crossed the threshold of his doorway, he had turned around, presumably to close the door and instead looked down in confusion that she stood there as well.

"And what do you think you're doing?" He asked as though he were talking to an unruly child or pet. Hermione bristled at his tone and went to take a step back, beginning to come to her senses. She really shouldn't have tried to follow a man into his room, that's just asking for trouble.

"Sorry," she mumbled and went to turn around but a rough hand around her upper arm caused her to pause. Looking over her shoulder, she took in his contemplative expression covering his face.

"Did you want to join me again?" He asked as one of his eyebrows slowly raised in question.

Hermione's jaw dropped as she stared, wide eyed, up at the wizard. His eyes bore into hers and everything in her mind was screaming at her to say no. But the only thing out of her mouth was…

"Yes."

He nodded, and then led her back into his room, kicking the door shut behind him. Her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness as the light grip on her arm disappeared and she heard the sound of a heavy weight sinking onto the heavy mattress.

The same rough hand trailed over her left hand and up her wrist, stroking the smooth flesh between the calloused thumb. Her skin felt as though it was on fire as she let the warmth of the man's skin wash over her.

"Your heart is racing," he nonchalantly pointed out as his hand continued its exploration of her arm.

"Is it?" She breathed out as she felt her feet begin to sink into the wooden floor beneath her. How could he make her feel like a puddle of water with such a small gesture?

He made a committal sound as she felt the fingers of his other hand drifting lightly up her thigh, sending sensations straight to her stomach and, more pressingly, her groin.

"Do I excite you?" He asked, a husky sound that she knew wasn't just from having been asleep only moments ago.

"Do you think you do?" She countered, surprised that she could come up with something that witty since she felt like she was slowly but surely losing control of her body and mind to this man's simple touch.

"I do," he admitted as though he knew it all along. He couldn't have though, could he? He didn't even like her. He still didn't like her.

"You don't," she told him, but the way her voice shook betrayed her words and she could practically _feel_ his smirk even if she couldn't see it.

"Liar."

Hermione felt her face heat up at having been caught in the oh-so obvious lie. She wasn't any good at it to begin with. She really didn't know why she had even attempted it, especially with a Slytherin.

"If you're uncomfortable," she heard him say softly, in a tone that she had never heard before, "then we can just sleep for the night and discuss… _this_ in the morning."

"I'd like that," she told him honestly. She felt the hands touching her guide her towards the bed. Crawling up onto it, she curled into the residual warmth from where Dolohov must have been sleeping earlier and pressed her face into his pillow. She didn't know what it was about the woodsy smell combined with whiskey, but it was incredibly intoxicating.

One of his hands reached across the length of the space between them to tuck an errant curl behind her ear. She subconsciously scooted herself closer to him and they ended up face to face with their legs and arms loosely intertwined.

"Goodnight," she whispered. She heard his muttered response and surmised that he must have already been half asleep. Smiling slightly, Hermione thought about the position she was in and pushed down the feelings that had once held disgust and anger and embraced the content and familiar feelings that soon had her drifting off as well.


	23. Chapter 23

**_Twenty-Three_** _– Apartment of Antonin Dolohov and Rabastan Lestrange – 6:45am_

She had a strong sense of deva vu as she awoke the next morning. Faced in a similar situation with the older Russian wizard asleep across from her in the same bed, she still didn't know what to do about it. Her brain just continued to whirl at a million miles per hour as she stared as his peaceful face.

Did she like him?

Well… she supposed so. He was intriguing and mysterious with grey morals that didn't completely turn her off. He was quite attractive even with the annoying scruff around his mouth and jaw. And he just radiated a sense of danger that only brought Hermione closer. Like a beautiful predator that had her captivated before it took a bite.

Reaching out, she brushed her hand over the hair that laid in waves over his forehead. It was soft and springy and only caused Hermione's stomach to clench with emotions she had never felt before. Was this simply lust or something more?

Placing her hand back down, she watched as his breathing got a little quicker before his eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the new light that had begun to enter the room with the morning sun.

"Morning," she whispered tentatively, wondering if he would even remember that she had joined him last night. She never knew what he was like when drunk. Or if he even _got_ drunk for that matter.

A muffled reply came from the man as he rolled over and attempted to shove his face into his pillow, apparently to get away from the sun coming through cracks in the makeshift curtain he had up in the window. Hermione was certain it was made out of cardboard.

"I'm going to go see if Rabastan is home and start breakfast," she informed him for some reason. But he gave a positive sounding grunt in reply and she was rolling out of the bed and tiptoeing to the door before she thought much on it.

When she walked out into the main living area, she couldn't see any sign that the other wizard had come home last night. Normally his boots would be by the door but they were nowhere in sight. Padding up to the man's room, she knocked lightly before cracking the door open. Peering inside, she saw the bed made and untouched.

He hadn't been back yet.

But the more important question was where the devil did he go then? Especially with no wand or protection.

Something fishy was going on and Hermione was determined to get to the bottom of it before this day was over. That was her whole goal for being here in the first place. And she tried to tell herself it had nothing to do with Dolohov but that subject was… complicated.

She set out on making breakfast as a way to distract herself. She'd question Dolohov as soon as he was up and fed and less cranky. Rabastan had mentioned once that he was much more agreeable after tea and sausage. And alcohol but she wasn't about to give the man that first thing in the morning.

When everything was finished and being set out on the table, she looked up at the sound of a door closing and saw a drowsy Dolohov walking towards her. She poured him a cup of tea and fixed it the way that Rabastan had told her once; lots of sugar. He muttered a pleasantry before taking a drink and digging into the plate of food in front of her.

She put a plate for Rabastan on a warming charm and sat down to eat her own breakfast. The two were silent while they ate but it wasn't uncomfortable. There just wasn't any need to fill the air with needless chatter. Especially since Hermione didn't have anything to say just yet.

When the two were finally finished, she banished the plates and silverware to the sink for her to wash later and refilled their cups. Dolohov raised a brow in question as he watched her quietly.

"I want to talk now," she answered, placing her hands on the cup to absorb some of the warmth from it. She'd need the strength to hold her ground if the wizard decided to get difficult with her instead of helpful.

He took another drink before nodding slowly, "I figured as much." He placed his cup back onto the table and met her gaze head on. "Then I suppose it's only fair for me to be upfront with you."

"I think that would be best," she agreed.

"I'm attracted to you," he said simply. And Hermione choked on her own saliva as she lurched forward a bit, spilling a few drops of tea as she stared owlishly up at the serious wizard.

"You're… what?"

"I don't believe it needs spelling out, Granger," he said with a roll of his eyes.

"You don't even like me," she tried to counter. That was what she had spent the past few months believing anyways. It always just seemed like he would tolerate her for Rabastan's sake.

"On the contrary. I believe that I like you too much. Dangerously so," he murmured the last part as he watched her with an intensity in his eye that she could remember seeing a few times before. Was this his way of… checking her out?

If so, she enjoyed it entirely too much as well.

"You say it like it's a bad thing," she said slowly, watching him carefully as well. She still had questions before she completely dived into whatever this was.

"It _is_ a bad thing," he replied dryly. "Besides being a wanted fugitive, I'm over twenty years your senior, bigoted, and a confirmed sadist."

"So it has everything to do with you and nothing to do with me?" She asked, truly curious if he just thought _he_ wasn't good enough for _her_.

He shifted slightly in his chair before exhaling audibly, "I'll admit that your… _parentage_ bothers me. But it is nothing that I see as your fault or something that lessens you in anyway."

"So I'm not a Mudblood?" She shot out, having heard the word enough in school to no longer be afraid of it. Even having it carved into her arm hadn't deterred her.

"You are a witch," he said lowly. "A talented and bright one. That is enough."

"I'm not bothered by you being a fugitive," she blurted out suddenly, apparently surprising him in the process as both his eyebrows raised almost comically before he settled his expression into one of neutrality.

"And the others?"

"Age is just a number," she told him, thinking about it carefully before answering. He would only want honesty from her in this conversation. "And you already admitted to having no problem with my own birth so I can look past your set in ways. Perhaps I can even help change your views on them."

"And my sadism?" He asked calmly. "It is a part of who am I. Hurting others."

It took Hermione even longer to think about that one. Could she honestly sit back as he hurt someone else? What if it was someone who deserved it though? She supposed it just depends on the situation. She could always try to stop or talk him out of something she didn't approve of. Or try.

"Will you ever hurt me?" She asked instead.

"No."

"Then I don't have a problem."

He regarded her quietly for a moment, possibly trying to see if she was telling the truth or not. And it seemed he had found whatever it was the he had been looking for, his hands disappeared underneath of the table before the entire wooden structure was being shoved over and out of the way, including their tea cups.

She heard the shattering sound and started saying something like, "The cups!" before Dolohov was in front of her and pulling her out of her chair by her wrists.

"I'll fix them later," he muttered as he pushed her into the cabinets behind her. His hands went down her waist and hips before gripping the back of her thighs. He hoisted her up and her bum slid onto the empty counter.

He stepped in between her legs as his mouth found hers in a mix of passion, lust, and desperation. Her hands grabbed onto the front of his shirt to hold herself up as his tongue explored her mouth with such frivolity. It seemed like he had almost become a different man in a blink of an eye. This one was much less restrained and guarded.

And she liked him. She liked him _a lot_.

He continued to kiss her with no desire to stop and she felt the throbbing heat between her legs mix with the growing bump that he was slowly grinding against her. Hermione felt as though she may go crazy if she didn't stop this ache between her legs. Reaching down in an attempt to free Dolohov from his trousers, she was just about to become successful before a screeching sound interrupted her quest.

"My eyes!" The voice squealed. "My poor virgin eyes!"

"Shove off, Lestrange," Dolohov growled as he turned to glare at his intruding roommate. The wizard had his hands over his face but had created a gap in between them for him to peek through.

"I don't think I'll ever be able to unsee this. One of you might actually have to Obliviate me," he dramatically said with a sigh as Dolohov untangled himself from the situation and helped Hermione down from the counter.

"Don't tempt me," the Russian wizard snarked as he leaned back against the cabinets next to her.

Her face was probably bright red if the radiating heat had any indication of it. She had completely forgotten about the thought that Rabastan could be back at any moment. And, of course, he had done exactly that when things had heated up between her and Dolohov.

Shaking her thoughts clear for a minute, she looked back up at a grinning Rabastan before asking, "Where were you?"

His smile dropped immediately as he stared at her. He looked nervously at his roommate and Hermione before sighing deeply. "I guess it's time I finally came clean about that…"

He met Hermione's gaze, looking more serious than she had ever seen him, before saying, "Antonin and I came back from Russia for my brother."

Hermione blinked several times in confusion, "But Rodolphus Lestrange is in Azkaban."

"Yeah… that's the thing," Rabastan said slowly. "You see, Hermione… We've kind of been planning to break him out this whole time."


	24. Chapter 24

**_Twenty-Four_** _– Apartment of Antonin Dolohov and Rabastan Lestrange – 7:28am_

* * *

"And just how the devil did you propose to do that?" Hermione asked angrily, glaring at the long haired wizard with her hands placed dramatically on her hips.

"We've got a plan," he offered quietly before he winced as she started laughing. This was just too unbelievable. They had been safely away in a foreign country that not even the British wizarding government could have gotten to them and they returned just for another criminal? That didn't seem very Slytherin-esque with all their talks of bloody self-preservation.

"Don't be too hard on him, _moya l'vitsa,_ " Dolohov interjected. "He has his reasons."

"So this wasn't your idea?" She asked as she turned to look at him. He had made himself another cup of tea and was taking a sip before he glanced down briefly at her,

"No."

"He only agreed to help me," Rabastan said softly, still unable to move from his spot in the front walkway. "I even had to pressure him a bit."

"A bit?" Dolohov asked skeptically.

Rabastan raised his hands in mock defense, "Okay, maybe a lot. But it's still a good idea."

"It's an awful idea," Hermione admonished. "Not only are _both_ of you wanted, which includes _everyone_ knowing your faces, but Azkaban is still highly guarded. Especially since the Ministry made the decision to get rid of the dementors."

"Wait…" Rabastan paused suddenly, appearing deep in thought. "The dementors are gone?"

Hermione blinked twice before answering slowly, "Well, yeah. After they switched sides during the war, the Ministry didn't feel as though they could be trusted any longer and removed them from the prison."

"That solves that problem, Antonin," he said brightly, grinning from ear to ear.

"What problem?" She asked in confusion.

"Neither of us can produce a patronus so we had been trying to figure out ways to get past the dementors. But since they aren't _theeere_ ," he held out in a sing-song voice, showcasing his enthusiasm over the newfound development. "Then we don't have to worry about it."

"Neither of you can produce a patronus?" She asked, genuinely curious. Her anger seemed to dissipate a bit as she instead focused her attention on this new information.

"Nope," Rabastan said with emphasis on the 'pop' sound. "We're dark wizards, Hermione. You have to be pure of soul or whatever nonsense to create the patronus charm."

Hermione's brows scrunched together as she thought that theory through. She supposed it was true. At least, it was a plausible reason why two fairly powerful wizards wouldn't be able to produce one; as opposed to Harry being able to when he was only thirteen.

"So then… How exactly were you planning on getting your brother out of Azkaban?" She asked in befuddlement. There just didn't seem to be any way she could think of it happening. Well… Sirius had managed to escape on his own and Voldemort had broken his followers out of prison but she couldn't see a calculating mind like Dolohov going along with anything like that.

"Polyjuice Potion," Rabastan said simply, a grin still on his face. He seemed awfully proud of that statement but Hermione could only stare in disbelief at the lack of any other details. That was it? Even she, Ron, and Harry had made up a better plan when sneaking into the Ministry whilst they had been on the run last year besides _just_ Polyjuice potion. Well... _she_ had done most of the planning, but still.

"What he means is that the potion is one step of our plan. Granted, the most important part due to who we are, but still only a part of it," Dolohov elaborated once it seemed clear that Rabastan was only going to continue to smile proudly at an irritated Hermione.

"Have you even made the potion?" She asked, still not entirely on board with what these two were doing. A part of her wanted to go straight to the Ministry and turn them in before this all got out of hand. But the other… the other wanted to remain close to them and hear them out. And that part was currently winning.

"We're both rubbish at potion making, so we've had to find it and buy it instead," Rabastan explained, moving into the kitchen and sitting down at the corrected table. He motioned for the other two to do the same, and reluctantly, Hermione did. But Dolohov remained standing behind her.

"How did you manage to get any money? Both of your accounts would have been frozen and the Ministry would have been alerted by the goblins if either of you had tried to get into Gringotts."

"Well, see," Rabastan started nervously, running a hand through his hair in a physical show of unease. "That's where it starts to get complicated."

"You didn't break into Gringotts, did you?" She asked miserably, speaking from experience.

"No, no, nothing that sordid. But we… may have committed a murder or two to acquire that money," he said slowly, watching her reactions very, very carefully.

Hermione stared, wide-eyed as she let this information sink in. Then it hit her. "The Pearson's? You killed a lovely couple just for their money!?" Her voice raised as anger began flooding her brain. She had witnessed that, well, sort of. But that was all it was for? Money for a _bloody_ potion?

"Keep your knickers straight, Granger. They were silent donors to the Dark Lord and his supporters," Dolohov growled out as Hermione made to stand from her chair and leave. But that statement had her collapsing back into it and turning to stare up at the man in shock.

"Wha-?"

"It's true, Hermione," Rabastan intervened, turning her attention back to him. "They were blood purists but cowardly ones at that. They turned a bunch of us over after the war, including the location of my brother," he stated lowly, his voice dropping as he remembered the circumstance.

"But your brother did horrible things during the war, Rabastan," she reminded him carefully.

"Did he?" The wizard asked sarcastically. "Tell me, did you see him do anything? Because I never did. Dolph wasn't like me or Antonin, and especially not like his horrible _hag_ of a wife. He only joined the Dark Lord because it was expected of him. And he only stayed because of me."

Rabastan reached out to grasp her hands in his, a pleading look on his face, "He was my protector Hermione. He has been since I was born. He never hurt anyone, he never killed _anyone_. He's only in jail because of his last name and the stigma attached to it."

"But what about the Longbottoms?" She questioned.

"That was all Bellatrix's idea. She dragged me and Crouch along because we were the newest recruits and needed to prove ourselves to her because she was supposedly in charge until the Dark Lord's return. Dolph only came too because he was looking after me. But all of us went down for Bellatrix's actions."

"So you're telling me he's totally innocent?" Hermione didn't know what to believe. Was it possible? Sure, Sirius had gone to Azkaban even though he had been wrongfully accused, but was it plausible for it to happen a second time?

"Completely innocent, Hermione. And that's why I can't just leave him there," he cried out, looking more pathetic and heartbreaking by the second.

Could she believe it? Would she believe it?

She remained silent as she looked into Rabastan's cerulean eyes that had misted over with genuine tears before sighing deeply, "Alright. But if I'm going to be in on this plan, we need a better one."


	25. Chapter 25

**_Twenty-Five_** _– Grimmauld Place – 11:34am_

* * *

"I've got news!" Harry announced as he walked through the doors of the kitchen. Hermione looked up from the Daily Prophet to raise her brows in surprise.

"News about what?"

"Greyback," he issued. And with just one word, he had her full attention. After relenting control of the situation over to her best friend and the Auror Department, she had begun to feel a little less stressed over the situation but it had started to return with the previous lack of news.

Until now.

"They've had several sightings of a roaming pack in the Forest of Dean this past week. And Neville went with the investigating party. He says he heard a lot of whispers of it being the outskirts of Greyback's pack," Harry calmly informed her, holding her gaze the entire time he did.

Hermione nodded slightly, letting the information sink in. "Is the department going to move against them?"

Harry's looked down for a moment and took a deep breath before shaking his head sadly. "No. They can't do anything without more information."

Hermione felt her head nodding to his words but she didn't understand. She didn't know why they couldn't just go and erase every single one of them from the world before he or any other one of them hurt someone else like they had hurt her. Like they had hurt her parents.

"Hermione?" She kept hearing Harry call her name but it was like he was traveling through a tunnel away from her. His voice just kept getting harder and harder to hear. And the room was beginning to spin, the cabinets across from her all blurred together into one dark shape.

"Hermione?" The faint voice kept calling her but it was so far away that she could barely even hear it. She just wanted the spinning to stop. She wanted this feeling inside of her to go away and never come back.

She wanted to go to sleep and never wake up.

"Hermione!" The voice was finally audible as hands grabbed at her shoulders and shook her. Her eyes met the familiar green of her best friend and she could visibly see the concern held in them.

"Harry…" She breathed out, trying desperately to compose herself. "I'm… I'm sorry. I zoned out there for a moment…"

"I'll say," he muttered as he tentatively released her.

"What's been going on with you, Mione?" She heard him ask softly. Looking up at him, she blinked a few times before asking what he meant.

"You've been really distant," he commented.

At that comment, she felt an anger like one she had never felt before bubbling up underneath of the surface of her skin. Had she ever felt this enraged before? It was doubtful. Not when she had punched Draco Malfoy. Not when Ron had cheated on her with Lavender. Not even when the Weasley women had turned their backs on her.

"I'm sorry Harry. Sorry that Greyback has been _stalking_ me, flaunting the _murders_ of my parents in my face, and that _nothing_ is going to be done about it any time soon," she hissed out, eyes narrowing into slits as she did.

Harry's face whitened as he looked down in embarrassment. "I-I didn't, you know that's not what I meant."

"It doesn't matter what you meant," she said quietly, standing from the table. "Nothing really matters anymore, does it? This has been and always will be our reality."

Harry didn't even try to stop her as she grabbed her cloak and walked out into the cool December air, apparating away as soon as she could. Only one solid destination held in her mind.

She waited outside the door that she had only exited through a few hours ago, her head angled down and her heart continuing to race as the varying emotions played her like a xylophone.

When the door finally did open and reveal the familiar wavy brown hair belonging to the individual she had slowly begun to associate with the ever tumultuous feelings of lust and comfort. And she made no mistake this time as she threw her arms around his waist and buried her face into his solid chest.

She felt his figure tense up as it did the first time but as opposed to then, he actually began to relax as his strong arms came up to hold her close to him. She breathed in his unique scent and willed herself not to cry in front of him. But she was just so tempted to let go of everything with this man. Who she was, what she once stood for. All of it.

"Are you alright?" She heard him rumble. His chest vibrated with each word and Hermione only held on tighter as she wished he would speak more often, allowing her to concentrate solely on those feelings.

But instead she shook her head side to side as a vague answer to his almost worried sounding question. He breathed out slowly and she listened carefully to the sound of his heartbeat, not even surprised at this point that he had one to begin with.

"Come inside then," he issued, half dragging, half lifting her up to place her inside of the apartment, kicking the door closed behind them. She didn't loosen her grip in the slightest, attempting to remain grounded to the one thing, the one person, that gave her any kind of security.

Not even Harry could do that now.

Dolohov maneuvered them into the living room where he procured them a bottle of whiskey with his wand. He sat them both down on the couch and allowed Hermione to remain curled around him. She suspected that this was most likely extremely uncomfortable and awkward for the wizard, but even still… He wasn't saying anything or pushing her away.

She saw him through one opened eye present the uncorked bottle of whiskey to her. She grabbed it with one hand and swallowed a mouthful, not even sputtering as she did. Had she gone so numb to the world around her?

It seemed plausible.

"Where's Rabastan?" She asked quietly as he took a few drinks of his own.

"Sleeping."

She nodded slightly, snuggling into his side just a bit more. His free arm came up and relaxed on top of her frame, his fingers lightly rubbing her waist. She would have laughed at the person who had tried to tell her a few months ago that she would have been in such an intimate position with Antonin Dolohov. But here she was.

Had her life truly spiraled out of control? Sure, the war had effected everyone negatively, but was this supposed to happen? Had the added pressures of her parents' deaths and the looming uncertainly and danger completely unhinged her?

Well, that was one theory for what she did next.

"Dolohov…"

"Mm?"

She lifted her head up and off of his chest, his arm moving with her. She looked him in the eye as she asked, "Where you serious this morning? When you said you were attracted to me?"

"I was," he responded neutrally.

She stayed completely still for a moment before saying, "I'm attracted to you too."

"I know," he said with a quirk of his brow. "You weren't very adept at hiding it."

"I don't want to hide it anymore," she told him, watching his eyes as they roamed every corner of her face.

"You don't?"

"No," she answered, before removing the distance between them and pressing her lips against his.


	26. Chapter 26

**_Twenty-Six_** _– Apartment of Antonin Dolohov and Rabastan Lestrange – 2:54pm_

* * *

"What _are_ we doing?" Hermione asked breathlessly as she briefly pulled apart from the man she had been engaged in a passionate liplock just moments before.

"Whatever we want," he muttered back against her lips as he repositioned himself to continue their previous ministrations. She allowed him to continue roaming her mouth with skill she had never experienced before. He was completely focused on her, not on himself, not on what could possibly follow after the kissing, but on just her and her pleasure.

"It's wrong," she whispered, trying to distract herself from the fact that he tasted like whiskey and sin.

"It is," he agreed, but that didn't deter him from swooping in again to trace the inside of her incisors with the tip of his tongue. The sensations took her breath away as she clung tighter to his black button up, scrunching the fabric together inside of her shaking fists.

His own hands had gone to her face and neck respectively. His thumb was tracing circles into her cheek and jaw while the fingers of his other hand held tight to her neck in a firm yet gentle hold.

"We _shouldn't_ ," she insisted as she attempted to pull away again, but his hold on her tightened just a fraction; enough for her to notice the change and pause.

"But we are," he told her, far enough away to stare her right in the eye, nose almost touching hers. He really did have mesmerizing eyes, she told herself. They were like deep, hidden pools just waiting to be explored.

"I-" She started, not knowing what else to say. But his hand trailed along the line of her jaw to press two fingers against her lips, silencing whatever she had planned on throwing out futilely.

"You talk too much Granger."

She felt his hands leave her torso before they were underneath her thighs. He swiftly stood up and had taken her with him. She leaned closer to him, wrapping her arms around his neck to keep herself from toppling backwards. His arms supported her legs while his hands had taken hold of her bum.

"Put me down," she tried to say weakly. And he stopped, but looked at her carefully, almost challengingly.

"I don't believe you mean that," he said simply, and there was nothing she could say in response to that. He wasn't wrong. And he knew it.

So he went back to what he had obviously been planning and carried her across the length of the space to his room. The door was kicked shut behind him as he placed her on top of his bed. His wand was out and casting charms as she felt her heartbeat rise dangerously high. Was this what scared prey felt before a predator ate them?

Once he was finished, he placed the stick of wood on his single dresser and walked back over to her, instantly crawling on top of her and placing himself less than a foot above her nervous form.

"Tell me to stop Granger," he softly said to her. She didn't want to meet his eye in that moment, but something compelled her to. She connected brown to brown and saw the sincerity behind his words. Even as he continued, "Tell me to stop and I swear I will. I would never force you."

Feeling a weight of pressure lift off of her, she finally began to breathe and take in the situation she had put herself in. She was in a room with an attractive man, laying on his bed with him hovering over top of her. But they had been on opposite sides of the war and her parents were dead and she didn't know if she could trust herself let alone him and everything inside of her was warring with her. She probably wouldn't have been able to answer a simple math question let alone this one she was now faced with.

Luckily, she didn't have to.

The figure above her dropped down beside her, resting on his side as one of his hands buried itself into her hair. "You look like you haven't slept in a week," he commented abruptly, causing her to look over at him in shock.

But his face was unreadable as he told her, "Just rest. I'll be here when you wake up." She could only blink owlishly up at him. Had he noticed her confusion and responded… nicely? She didn't think a day would ever go by where she only became more and more befuddled over Antonin Dolohov.

Still, she took his advice. It didn't take her long to drift off because he hadn't been wrong. She hadn't been sleeping well for weeks now. The only times she had really felt calm enough to was when she had been like this. Lightly tangled up with a dangerous yet overtly kind wizard.

When she finally woke up, the sun had already gone down, drowning the room in darkness besides a single candle lit on the end table next to the bed. It was obviously a charmed fire as none of the wax looked to be burning from what she could see.

She just watched it for a while, allowing her sleep filled brain to take in its surroundings again. She was back in the apartment, she was in bed with Dolohov after making out with him on his couch, he hadn't pressured her into sex.

Releasing a deep breath, she allowed the soothing smell of the man to invade her senses as she rolled over a bit, bumping into the arm that had been loosely underneath of her shoulders.

Dolohov was leaning casually against the headboard, facing the only window in the room and watching the clear night sky. And Hermione just watched him. She took in the brief lifts to his covered chest when inhaled and exhaled, the slow way his eyes would blink, long lashes brushing against the tip of his pale skin. He didn't look at her for several minutes, not until she huffed slightly against his arm. His eyes dropped down to meet hers and electricity instantly spread throughout her body at the simple gaze.

"I think I'm ready," she told him, surprising herself with the statement. She had barely even thought about it but now, she supposed she was. She had been too wound up earlier, her mind too chaotic. But now… Now she felt more relaxed, more in control of herself.

And she wanted him.

He didn't say anything though. Just continued staring at her with an intensity she didn't quite understand but never wanted him to stop. She just stared back, allowing herself to get lost in those deep depths before he finally shifted against her, returning to his previous position from earlier hovering over top of her.

"I want you," she told him huskily, her chest tightening with anticipation, making it harder and harder for her to breath.

"As you should," he said in a quiet huff, but the smirk on his face was teasing her as he lowered himself down to recapture her lips in a repeat of earlier that afternoon.

Hermione reveled in the feel of him again, readjusting herself to him and his taste. Had she ever been so enamored by taste alone? She couldn't recall. More so, she couldn't even recall the names of her previous partners in that moment. It was all just Dolohov.

His lips soon left hers and a needy whine escaped from the back of her throat, startling the both of them. But he covered his surprise with a low chuckle that vibrated throughout her entire body. "Yes _moya l'vitsa_. I hear you," he said with a raspier tone, sending even more pleasure coursing through her body at the slight change in pitch.

His lips returned but they were lower, angled towards her jaw before trailing down to her neck, sucking at the sweet spots that had her breaths coming out in puffs. He continued going downward, leading to a location that Hermione had never once let any of her partner's mouths reach. But they had been boys, every single one of them.

And Dolohov was a man.

His hands deftly undid the button of her jeans before slowly unzipping it. She lifted her hips up to assist in his mission to rid her of the garment. She looked to the ceiling as he removed her knickers as well. She watched out of the corner of her eye as he sat back on his knees. Looking down at him, she saw his gaze was fully captured by the place between her legs.

She could feel the heat welling up inside of her at his look alone. He resembled a dying man looking at his salvation and that alone had Hermione squirming from the wetness pooling between her thighs.

" _Sovershenstvo_ …" He softly muttered, sounding almost like a prayer to her ears. His hand reached down to gently cup her, a gasp escaping her lips the second he made contact.

"What are you going to do?" She asked breathlessly, watching him carefully as his gaze slowly left the apex of her legs to trail up to her eyes.

" _Daragaya_ … I'm going to show you something magical. Something no one will ever be able to replicate."

She barely even had time to register his words before he was down, breath hot against her core. The feelings… She could never describe it without sounding silly. But he had been completely correct in his promise.

He had shown her true magic.

For the _entirety_ of the night.


	27. Chapter 27

**_Twenty-Seven_** _– Apartment of Antonin Dolohov and Rabastan Lestrange – 5:22am_

* * *

Hermione lay panting on the bed as she struggled to catch her breath. Had Dolohov been sex deprived before now or was this how every sexual encounter with him went? He was bloody fantastic in her opinion.

He pushed her boundaries in directions she had never once considered before. Some of the positions, risqué as they were, she tried readily per his instruction. It was one of the greatest lessons she had enjoyed in a long, _long_ time.

And the way he had talked… she may have not been a virgin, but she definitely remembered blushing like one. He wasn't like her other partners who simply wanted their own satisfaction while occasionally remembering their partner.

Dolohov had told her exactly what he was going to do to her. He explained in that deep voice of his how he was going to fuck her, when she would cum, and what she could do to please him in return.

It was the hottest thing she had ever experienced in her entire twenty years of life.

He had finally collapsed after their last round and had already curled up around her, lightly snoring as he had long drifted off into a peaceful and spent sleep. She was still wild awake though, her mind more active than it had been in a long time.

Every detail from the past few months kept flowing through, one after another. Receiving the first anonymous gift, meeting Dolohov and Rabastan again, the Pearson's death, realizing it was Greyback that was stalking her and that the two Death Eaters actually weren't the worst, finding out her mother and then father had been murdered by the werewolf, every interaction with Rabastan and the man next to her…

And now tonight.

So much had happened in one year… How had her life changed in such a short span of time?

Feeling a bit panicked, Hermione made to get out of bed. She needed fresh air or whiskey or _something_ to take away the shaky feeling she was experiencing. If all else failed, she'd attempt to wake the wizard back up and distract herself again. He most likely still had it in him if the previous hours were any indication.

She managed to slip out of the wool sheets without disturbing Dolohov. Grabbing her surprisingly intact knickers and his forgotten shirt, she efficiently threw them on before heading towards the door. Padding out of the room, she went straight into the darkened kitchen and reached for the bottle of whiskey from the cabinet she knew Dolohov usually stored it. Pulling a bottle out, she struggled to uncork it but had no such luck. Debating on going back in the room to grab her wand, she instead gave up on the whiskey.

Placing it back on the shelf and shutting the cabinet quietly, she decided to go outside for some air instead.

Leaving the apartment door slightly ajar, she traveled down the steps of the complex and out into the dimly lit night. The back of the building had several benches for its tenants to typically enjoy during the daytime. Two rusted and far apart street lights were the only light in the area besides the burning full moon above her.

Just another reminder of what could await her if she didn't handle this Greyback problem.

Looking away from the sky and stepping towards the benches in front of her, she paused as she noticed that she wasn't alone. The long, silky hair of Rabastan shone dully against one of the wooden benches as she gingerly stepped closer to him.

She probably should have put her shoes on as well. But in the midst of a potential panic attack, she had forgone them.

Walking around the side of the bench, she saw that Rabastan was fully entranced by the night sky, watching the stars with that familiar twinkle in his eye. But there was sadness as well. Something she knew all too well at this point.

"My brother and I used to name as many constellations as we could. It was a game. He would teach them to me and then we would sit outside and race to see who could find the most in one night. Dolph always let me win, but he never knew that I knew that…"

Sitting down next to the man, she placed her hand comfortingly on his arm and said in a reassuring voice, "You'll see him again, Rabastan. You can tell him then."

He turned towards her and she could see the wetness pooling beneath his bottom lashes as he smiled rather weakly at her, "I wish it were that easy, Hermione. But I think I knew all along that this mission of mine was hopeless. And Antonin's too good a friend to tell me so. He'd rather be thrown back in prison than crush my pathetic dreams of living out the rest of my life with my brother. Free of persecution, free of tyrants, free of responsibilities…"

"It isn't hopeless. You don't know that. And Dolohov is too smart to let you throw away your new life like that," she said confidently, trying to sound as she felt.

"You sound like him, you know," he said offhandedly.

"What?"

"He said the same thing about you after I brought you over the first time. I asked if he thought it was a bad idea because you might tell someone. And he said you were too smart to do that." Rabastan turned towards her and gave her that familiar cheeky grin of his, "Antonin says nice things about you all the time. You're just never around to hear them."

She snorted slightly, "Trust me, I heard plenty in the past few hours." Quickly clamping her hand over her mouth, she closed her eyes in embarrassment that she had just admitted to the wizard next to her that she had slept with his roommate and friend.

"Don't bother playing coy, love. I knew it was long coming."

Looking over at him, she asked, "You did?"

He gave her a long side eye before laughing lightly, "Of course. I've known Antonin for years. And I know what he's like around witches that he likes. You were definitely one of them. And he's Antonin, so obviously you liked him too."

"You seem awfully confident about that," she grumbled as she folded her arms across her chest in a combination of annoyance and from the chill of the night air.

But a fabric came drifting over her as Rabastan dropped his cloak over top of her shoulders and back. "Just save a dance for me at the wedding," he added with a sigh.

Giggling, Hermione snuggled closer to the man she was pretty proud to call a friend now and rested her head on his shoulder. After a few moments of comfortable silence passed between them, she softly whispered to him, "Rabastan?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm going to help you get your brother back. No matter what it takes."

The only response she got was a squeeze of her hand but she heard the quiet sniffles as they stayed outside, staring up into the sky and enjoying each other's company.


	28. Chapter 28

**_Chapter Twenty-Eight – Diagon Alley – 8:11pm_**

Hermione rushed from the main shopping street with her hands full of bags. She had promised Dolohov and Rabastan that she would gather some supplies for them before showing up at their apartment to begin their discussion on how they were going to successfully break Rodolphus Lestrange out of Azkaban.

She maneuvered her way through the side streets, trying to get to the Apparation area as soon as possible. She didn't want to keep them waiting and she especially did not want to be sighted by anyone she knew.

Harry already thought she was acting a bit suspicious but blaming her nervousness and anxiety on Greyback and the death of her parents was easy enough to get him off of her trail.

But still, she wasn't going to leave anything to chance.

As she neared the point where she could disapparate, she went to dig her wand out of her front jean pocket. But that moment of distraction was all it took for a hand to reach out of one of the alleyways adjoining the side street and grab her.

Another large hand was quickly placed over her mouth before she could muster up any sound at all, let alone a scream. Her back hit the stone wall behind her and darkness surrounded her as her head cracked on the brick.

"Well, well, lovely. Don't you look deliciously prey-like?" Hermione's heart sank as she recognized that horrible rasping voice. Looking over, she could just make out the large outline of Fenrir Greyback. His stringy black hair, those piercing amber eyes, and that psychotic smile…

It was one of her many nightmares come to life.

"Surprised to see me? As am I. I tried to be patient, you know. I thought taking your meaty little Muggle parents would be enough to draw you to me. But you just continued to be even more surprising. Cold, maybe. But heartless? Now… That's an attractive trait," he whispered this into her hair, right outside the shell of her ear. But his breath smelled awful and he was too close and his filthy hand was still covering her mouth. She could feel her heart race dangerously fast and she might have been gasping her air if his disgusting hand wasn't covering her mouth.

"And I told myself I was done waiting, but… now that I have you, I want to continue our little game again. Catching you like this? It was too easy. It makes our months of cat and mouse seem... pointless. So, what do you think?"

He finally loosened his grip on her jaw and allowed her a bit of room to speak. Clearly he was expecting an answer but Hermione was at a loss. What did he want? What did he mean?

She felt his hot breath again as he let out a small chuckle, "Come on girly. They told me you were the brains of the Trio. I'm gonna keep taking people close to you. I'm gonna cut them up. I'm gonna send them to you. And sooner or later, you'll have to come to me. Make sense?"

 _No_ , she thought desperately. No, it made no sense at all. But he was a monster, he didn't need common sense or a moral compass. He would just continue to destroy and cause terror wherever he went. And right now, it seemed he just wanted to do this solely with her.

Her panicked thoughts were interrupted though by a wet feeling running up the side of her cheek. "I do hope it's sooner though. I can't wait to have my way with that plump arse of yours. I bet you still remember me telling you all about that before Bella took you away from me. Did you fantasize about it? I know I did. I killed two of my own pack after that. I wanted you so badly and I got denied and they got in the way. But I'll have you soon, girly."

"If the anticipation doesn't kill us both first," he breathed out with a teasing tone to it. But it sounded more like his idea of a game that anything.

"Go on then. I'll get my den prepared for my little bitch, but in the meantime… I'll have to do some hunting. Don't take too long, I'll only wait so long before I start gettin' impatient again. Who knows what'll happen then."

He was gone before his words even sunk into. But as soon as it did, Hermione felt her knees hit the pavement underneath of it. She couldn't stop the spasms moving through her entire body. Just the thought that she could've been taken, that she would have never seen Harry or Rabastan or Dolohov ever again…

It brought tears to her eyes as the nightmare became even more real than it had ever been before.

She showed up at the apartment several minutes later. She had taken some time to compose herself but she knew she still looked like a wreck. And she was probably right since both men seemed to notice right off the bat.

"Hermione? What's wrong?" Rabastan asked sincerely, standing up to bring her into the living room where she would be more comfortable.

She sat down next to him on the couch but she still couldn't find her words and her hands were shaking too much and she just felt that overwhelming despair in the pit of her stomach that gave her the feeling that she was about to be sick.

But another weight dropped down beside her and a pleasant warmth was placed in between her clasped hands. Looking down, she saw that it was a fresh made cup of tea.

Her eyes traveled up a bit to see the concern evident in Dolohov's dark eyes. It endeared him to her a bit more. He was never very expressing with her unless they were fucking, but it was moments like this one where he seemed to be more a man than anything.

"Thank you," she mumbled out as she leaned into his side a bit. She could feel like tense up slightly before it dissolved and his arm closest to her came up to wrap securely around her shoulder.

She caught Rabastan's smile out of the corner of her eye before she looked back down at the cup of tea in her hands. She slowly brought it up to take a sip from it and relished in the warmth and comfort both it and Dolohov provided to her. It was enough to loosen her lips more at the very least.

She inhaled harshly before saying, "There's something I need to tell you both. Something I should have brought up a while ago."

And they both listened quietly as she regaled her tale of the mysterious letters, sickening gifts, and how she came to find out that it was actually Greyback all along. It all led up to this most recent run-in that had her burying herself more into Dolohov's side as she finally finished.

"So the damned wolf is still alive then…" Rabastan muttered angrily. "I was hoping I'd never have to see him again."

"But wasn't he one of you," Hermione asked as she took another sip of tea, finally beginning to calm down a bit more.

Rabastan barked out a laugh, "I didn't even _like_ most of the other Death Eaters. But no one liked the werewolves. Even the Dark Lord hated them. But he needed them to help take over the world or whatever. I think he even liked Muggles more than werewolves."

"But why?"

It was Dolohov who answered this time; "Muggles are easier to control than werewolves."

Hermione supposed it made sense in a way. Most werewolves were treated like savage beasts and with some exceptions, most truly were. It was like most creatures, she figured. And though she had always wanted to protect the innocent magical creatures, she could only hold contempt for the ones like Greyback.

"I'm sorry to spring this on you two... I've been trying to deal with it on my own for a while-"

"You what?" Rabastan asked incredulously. "Hermione, you, ah," he could barely even manage to form coherent sentences as he stood from his spot and looked down at her in despair. "Why in Merlin's name would you try to deal with this alone?"

She shrugged halfheartedly, "I didn't want to bother anyone else with it. Greyback is after me, I didn't want anyone else to be hurt by him."

"But people close to you have already been hurt by him," Dolohov pointed out. "He's the reason you're now an orphan."

Hermione let that fact sink in before she felt the wetness return to her eyes. And she had tried to hard to compose herself.

"Hermione," Rabastan uttered softly as he knelt down in front of her, taking her hands into his. "Let Antonin and I help you. It's only fair since you've been helping us rescue Dolph."

She tried shaking her head through the tears but the figure next to her and taken his hand from her shoulders and moved them into her hair. She could hear his voice next to her ear as he said, "It's not a question Granger."

Sniffling, she turned and looked up at him. He seemed to have several emotions flitting across his face at once; sympathy, concern, but worst of all...

 _Resolve._


	29. Chapter 29

**_Chapter Twenty-Nine – Apartment of Antonin Dolohov and Rabastan Lestrange – 11:22pm_**

* * *

"Why didn't you tell Rabastan about Greyback's return?" Hermione asked the naked wizard next to her. She had crawled into his bed after Rabastan had fallen asleep on the couch and he hadn't kicked her out so she decided to try talking to him for once.

"Did you come here just to interrogate me?" She heard him ask roughly, a bit angrily from the tone. He always got like that when he was tired.

"No," she muttered, running one of her hands over the hair on his chest, loving the feel of his muscles rippling underneath the pads of her fingers. There was something much more primal at the forefront of her mind concerning the man.

She felt one of his hands raise and slide into her mane of hair, clenching it just enough for her to feel. "I'll answer your question as long as your pretty little mouth works as well," he said softly into her ear, sending shivers through her entire frame.

It was hard for her not to completely lose herself into Dolohov, he was magnetic in ways even she didn't understand. Whether it was the hint of danger that followed him or his mysterious aura, she didn't know. All she did know was that she wanted more and more of him.

So she let her hands trail down until she was grasping his hardened flesh in her hands and leaned down to place delicate kisses on the already weeping tip. She heard the pleasurable hiss above her as well as the increase of pressure on the back of her head, urging her to stop teasing. So she opened her mouth and slide the length of him inside of her, letting him set the idle pace as he began to speak.

"Rabastan has enough to deal with already. Greyback wasn't a subject that he needed to be privy too."

As Hermione came up for air, she asked a different question, "How did you know about his return?" He pushed her back down and she resumed her ministrations as he groaned lightly.

"I've been speaking with an old friend of mine. He keeps in contact with the old circle who passed along the information. There aren't many secrets considering our lot as of late. Any piece of information could help."

She heard him chuckle slightly, "It was certainly useful in escaping from a pretty witch's evil little clutches."

Hermione ran her teeth gingerly along the sensitive flesh and had the man above her cursing at the sensations. She cackled internally as she got her own sort of revenge against the wizard for that jab at her.

She came back up again and asked next, "Who gave you the information then?"

"Going to report me to your Auror boyfriend?" She heard him ask lazily as she bobbed her head up and down once again.

"He's not my boyfriend," she said angrily as she released his cock with a loud 'pop'.

She could practically hear the sneer on his face as he bit out, "Could've fooled me."

Huffing slightly, Hermione instead got inspired to do something a bit rebellious. Leaning down again, she fondled the wizard's rigid flesh in her hand as she licked the whole length of him, eliciting sharp inhales from Dolohov.

"I don't do this for Harry," she whispered huskily. "I never did this for any other wizard either."

If it was possible, she could feel the man grow even harder in her hands at her words. So she took it as an invitation to keep going, regardless if he ever actually answered her questions or not. She meant what she had said early. She wasn't there to interrogate him.

But as she grew a bit quicker in her movements, she heard the wizard above her exhale harshly before telling her, "Yaxley. I got the information about Greyback from Yaxley."

Yaxley… She remembered Harry telling her that people had spotted him in Bristol a few months ago. He was one of the Death Eaters that had returned under mysterious pretenses. Maybe Dolohov knew though?

Pushing the thought to the back of her mind, she decided not to ask him anymore questions until the two of them were content and sated. It was much easier to talk to the man when he wasn't wound up so tightly. And the point between her legs seemed to be great for relieving his tension.

After a few rounds, the two lay on his old rickety bed, just listening to others quickened breaths slowly start to recede into normal breathing. "Do you ever think there will be a moment when either of us get tired of that?" She asked, voicing her thoughts aloud.

"I don't know about you," he said slowly, "but I doubt I could ever get tired of you."

You, he said. Not this, not sex. But Hermione herself. Somehow that connotation meant so much more to her. He wasn't just interested in her because the sex was phenomenal. He was actually interested in _her_.

Turning onto her side, her eyes took in the hazy, darkened sight from the underside of his stubbled jaw. Pushing herself up slightly, she placed a delicate kiss against the roughed skin, whispering to him, "I don't want to get tired of you."

" _Ty nuzhna mnye…_ " She heard him breathe out before his arms wrapped around her and settled her petite frame against his larger one.

She had absolutely no clue what he had just said to her. But from the tone of voice, it sounded almost like a declaration of love. After a few moments of silence and listening to him breath, Hermione was primed to fall asleep, but before she did, she heard the man next to her mutter out,

"Greyback's a dead mutt walking. I'll kill him before I let him have you. I'll kill him, his whole pack, and every fucking werewolf out there if I have to."

Hermione slept with a small smile on her face that night.


	30. Chapter 30

**_Chapter Thirty_** _– Grimmauld Place – 11:31pm_

* * *

"Hermione?" She heard her roommate call from the kitchen as soon as she walked through the door. She sighed from exhaustion as she hung her cloak up. She knew she wouldn't be able to avoid Harry forever. He had already begun to notice her distance and now with her only coming home occasionally…

She had to confront it now before she let him come to his own conclusions. She knew how well that never worked out.

Walking into the kitchen, she first noticed all of the folders and papers spread across the old oak table and then her equally tired looking friend.

"What's all this?" She asked as she walked farther into the room, looking down for any sort of visual clue as to what these papers were.

"Reports, sightings, case files. I've been trying to find a connection between the escaped Death Eaters and the werewolves and anyone else but… there's literally nothing Hermione. There's no correlations, no evidence, nada. Just a whole lot of sightings and speculations."

"So for all we know… Greyback really is just here for me and not some grand conspiracy?" Harry's face fell at her despondent words, but it was true, wasn't it? The more time she spent with Rabastan and Dolohov, the less she thought that Death Eaters or reviving Voldemort or starting a new rebellion were on anyone's minds. So that had to mean that it was personal for Greyback. Just as it was personal for Rabastan with his brother.

"We don't know that, Mione. I just have to keep looking," Harry insisted. But Hermione could only offer him a weak smile in return. Because she knew much more than he did in this moment but she would never tell him. Besides facing the possibility of irrevocably ruining their nine-year friendship, she would also get her two newest comrades in trouble. And she didn't want that either.

Hermione heard the snap of Harry closing another folder and it brought her back to reality as she saw that Harry looked conflicted about something.

"What is it?"

Harry scratched the back of his head nervously before sighing lightly. "There's something else I've been meaning to talk to you about but I… never really knew how to approach it. So I'm just going to ask straight out, alright?"

"Alright," Hermione conceded, secretly wondering which of her many lies and suspicious behaviors he was going to point out as the brunt of his focus these past few weeks.

"Do you have some secret bloke you're seeing?" He immediately blurted out. Hermione could only blink in surprise as she watched her friend's face quickly heat up.

"I mean, I know it's none of my business and Neville told me I was barking mad because I wanted to ask you, but you've just been really weird lately and not in the weird way like distance, because I completely understand that you're going through a really rough time right now and it would make sense if you started relying on some random guy for support…" His voice trailed off as she suspected he lost the rest of the air in his lungs from the previous explosion of words.

"I just want you to know that you can tell me and it won't be… odd, or anything," he added slowly, face still bright red from embarrassment.

Hermione wished she didn't have to lie to him. She wished that Greyback had never returned, she wished Bellatrix Lestrange had never tortured her with a cursed knife, sometimes she wished she had never met Rabastan and Dolohov… But she didn't regret it.

And she certainly didn't regret getting involved with the latter.

"Oh Harry," she expressed softly but completely falsely. "No, I'm not seeing anyone. If I'm not working late then I'm visiting other people. It helps keep me grounded. It makes me feel less alone, you know?"

Harry seemed visibly relieved by her statement and nodded enthusiastically. "I understand, Mione. And I'm sorry for being so… yeah, about that."

She chuckled slightly and waved him off, "It's fine. You were just being a concerned friend."

He seemed to deflate just a tad, "Yeah… friend."

But he shook off whatever was bothering him as he asked her, "So have you heard from Mrs. Weasley at all?"

Hermione shook her head, "Nope. Nor do I particularly want to. Those two were completely horrid to me the last time and I won't even stomach another get together until I receive a proper apology."

"Her and Ginny keep owling me, begging me to reconsider but I'm with you, Mione," he said proudly as he reached across the table to grasp her hand. "We've been through too much together for me to throw it away over something that petty."

 _Oh Harry_ , she thought sadly. _If only you knew what I've truly been doing behind your back._ _You'd never forgive me. If not for associating with wanted Death Eaters or even fornicating with one, then for plotting to break another out of Azkaban._

Speaking of which…

That date was steadily approaching. There were still a few details that the three of them needed to press out but everything seemed to be falling into place. They just had to put it all into motion after the first of the new year.

Sometimes she would ask herself why she was going to this much trouble for virtual strangers, but the only consistent answer she could come up with was because it was what she wanted to do. It didn't feel like breaking the rules. It didn't feel like justice. It just felt like something she had to do.

Maybe that was the darkness inside of her. Maybe that was from spending too much of her free time with former Death Eaters. Maybe the stress of being hunted was just getting to her.

Whatever the case, her answer never changed. She was doing this, no matter what.

"Hermione? Earth to Hermione?" Harry called teasingly.

"Sorry, lost in my own thoughts there for a minute," she breathed out, snapping back to the present.

"I noticed," Harry said cheekily. "I was just wondering if you wanted some custard before bed. I got some from that nice lady down in the treasury today."

"Are you sure she didn't put a love potion in it?" Hermione deadpanned, reminding them both of the incident their sixth year with Romilda Vane.

Harry feigned a shudder before opening up the container, "I hope not. The woman's in her sixties at the very least."

"I'll be sure to take plenty of pictures at the wedding in the very least," she added with a wink as she accepted the spoon he passed to her.

"Come on Mione, you're the friend who'll have to talk me out of it. Show me the logic behind why it's a bad idea and all that."

"Better yet, I'll just marry you myself," she joked, snorting with laughter. But as she continued to get lost in her own merry thoughts, she neglected to see the expression on her best friend's face directly across from her.


	31. Chapter 31

**_Chapter Thirty-One – Knockturn Alley – 1:04am_**

* * *

Hermione rushed through the streets of the eerie and dimly lit area of magical Britain. She was supposed to meet Dolohov at one per his request but it had taken her awhile to get away from Harry and Neville. The two of them didn't like the fact that she was going out at night when a psychotic werewolf was stalking her.

She had to revert to schoolgirl Granger in order to shut them up. A few reminders of who she was and what she had done to people who had crossed her over the years was enough for at least Neville to wave goodbye from the kitchen. Harry, while visibly unnerved, had still begrudgingly let her leave.

That was something she would have to figure out at a later point. Her best friend's newfound worry over her was beginning to become a tad bit annoying. She didn't know what had come over him but suddenly it was like he wanted her by his side whenever she wasn't working or sleeping.

It was making it extremely difficult for her to sneak out to see her Death Eaters. But on nights like tonight, she still managed.

Maneuvering her way through the darkened stone streets, she come barely make out the huge silhouette of the wizard she was meeting at the end of the alley. She didn't dare call out and draw attention to them, so she kept her hood up and stayed silent as she approached him. He only glanced down at her before slipping three vials into one of her cloak pockets.

She didn't even question him as he took her by the hand and began to lead her out of the series of slim alleys that surrounded the main drag of the less than credible area of business outside of Diagon Alley.

When they came to one of the known Disapparation points, she almost crashed into the man's solid form as he came to a complete and sudden stop. Looking past him slightly, she could just make out a bulky form directly in front of them.

The figure's head raised and seemed to sniff at the air around them before Hermione could see a large white grin appear on the figure.

"There's my pet…" Shivers swept through Hermione's frame as the familiar voice of Greyback permeated her ears. She expected Dolohov to tense up or… something at the sound of his proclaimed foe. But he seemed to stay calm as the werewolf slowly approached them.

"Now, now… What are you doing with Dolohov? I thought I told you that you were mine," his gravelly voice continued as he inched his way closer, watching the wizard Hermione was practically hidden behind with eyes alit. She knew both men were considerably dangerous, but which was worse? She had the sinking suspicion that she might be about to find out the answer to that very question.

A tense pause seemed to fall over them as Greyback stopped moving and engaged in a silent staring match with Dolohov. The two seemed to be communicating something between them but Hermione didn't have the faintest idea of what it consisted of.

"Nothing to say for yourself, Dolohov?" Greyback asked roughly as he straightened himself slightly to look the wizard in the eye better. Even with his bulking form, Dolohov still had a few inches on the wolf.

Hermione almost thought the man wouldn't say anything at all, until she caught the low tones of, "The Mudblood is mine."

Bristling slightly at the derogatory term he used, she thought perhaps he was just using it to save face in front of his equally dangerous opponent, but still. Hermione didn't like it.

She heard Greyback snicker before it seemed to get softer. He was… moving away? "For now, Dolohov. For now. We'll finish this later."

Hermione remained silent behind the man until he finally snapped out of whatever had been holding him so tightly in place and pulled her away from the darkened alleyways. She felt the familiar hook in her gut before they reappeared in the park across from his temporary Muggle apartment.

The two of them silently walked across the street and would have started up the stairs but Hermione had too much weighing on her mind in that moment. She grabbed the wizard by the crook of his arm. He stopped instantly and turned around just enough so that he could see her out of the corner of his eyes.

"Why did you call me a Mudblood?" She asked quietly. When she didn't receive an immediate response, she thought perhaps he hadn't even heard her. Just as she was considering repeating herself, he answered.

"Because you are one."

It was said so simply, so matter-of-factly… Hermione didn't even believe it was him saying it at first. She thought perhaps her mind had been playing tricks on her and Dolohov had been replaced by an annoying twelve-year-old Draco Malfoy.

"I'm not a Mudblood," she insisted, still confused. After everything that had happened between them… Did he still think so poorly of her?

"You are," he repeated, but one of his hands came up to cup her cheek. It was so warm, so affectionate, that Hermione felt her eyes begin to tear up a bit. "But you're mine."

"W-What?" She heard herself stammer out. Her mind and heart were being pulled in so many directions that she might have been close to having another panic attack.

She felt Dolohov lean in close to her and press his lips to her forehead before breathing out, "You're _my_ Mudblood."

And that was the end of it.

He released her after that and made his way up into his shared apartment with Hermione following dutifully behind him. She didn't know what to make of this development. All she did know was that she couldn't lose Dolohov. Not right now. Not when she needed him.

When they entered the apartment, Rabastan was sitting at the kitchen table and smiled brightly the second the two of them entered. "Did you get it?" He asked in excitement.

In Hermione's confusion, she had completely forgotten about the vials Dolohov had dropped into her cloak. Pulling them out, she handed them back to the wizard before he walked forward and placed them on the rickety table.

Rabastan picked one up and examined it thoroughly before placing it back down. "And you're sure it'll work?"

"I paid good money for it," Dolohov replied gruffly. "It had better."

"What is it?" Hermione asked as she slid into one of the empty seats.

Rabastan grinned across the table at her as he responded smoothly, "Polyjuice potion."

"How did you get the money for that?" She questioned in disbelief. Polyjuice on the streets went for ridiculously high galleons.

"Most of it came from that necklace we got from the Pearson's," Rabastan answered flippantly. "But a lot of it came from the money they had been passing to us in secret after we first returned. Let's just say they owed us for not outing them when we could have."

Hermione had almost completely forgotten about the couple the two Death Eaters had murdered all those months ago. But as opposed to the disgust she had felt then… she oddly enough felt nothing now.

"So you're going to use the potion to… what? Sneak into Azkaban? Even without the dementors I don't know how well that'll work.

"Antonin and I have been discussing it," Rabastan replied as he continued to give her a distracting grin. It usually meant he was up to no good. "We think it wouldn't raise too many red flags if, say, a respectable member of society was to enter the prison to interrogate a prisoner. Especially a member of society that was… highly regarded."

"Who would that be?" Hermione asked in surprise, only coming up with Harry's name. But surely they wouldn't ask her to get some of her roommate's hair to break a man out of Azkaban?

"You," they both answered in unison.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter Thirty-Two – Azkaban: North Sea – 11:38am

Hermione thought this was one of the worst ideas that anyone had ever had. Ever. And she had left Harry and Ron on their own at times and seen what had come from those disasters.

Merlin, they had even broken into Gringotts!

This was worse.

Right now she, Dolohov, and Rabastan were marching straight through the front doors of the heavily guarded wizarding prison. Except the two men didn't look anything like themselves. Somehow they had gotten ahold of hair from Ministry workers. And not just any old Ministry worker.

Aurors.

Dolohov was keeping true to his roots as Russian Auror Chekov Restova, a man of average height and build but who supposedly spoke with a low and heavy accent that Dolohov could easily mimic.

Rabastan, on the other hand, had miraculously gotten hair from Restova's underling, Travis McCormick. And although the young, sandy blonde Junior Auror was indeed cute, as Rabastan had put it bluntly, Hermione didn't appreciate the childish and crude behavior the wizard was doing with the poor lad's appearance.

Dolohov had appreciated it even less after a quick swipe to the back of the head had Rabastan behaving properly.

And now they were entering Azkaban under the guise of interrogating Rodolphus Lestrange for information he may have on the whereabouts of his younger brother. Except for the simple problem that the guards were not idiots.

All it would take is a few choice questions, a little wand waving, or a potion, and then their whole plan would backfire and all three of them would be placed into empty cells.

Except Rabastan swore up and down that no one would question a member of the famed Golden Trio coming in. They probably wouldn't even spare the two of them a glance once 'famous Hermione Granger was on the scene.'

This was never going to bloody work.

They both had much more faith in her notoriety than she obviously did. If they wanted someone to gawk over, they should have gotten Harry. He was much more famous than she was. He turned heads, not her.

Or so she thought…

The second the three of them entered the gloomy prison scene, the wizard working the front desk just about stumbled over himself as he struggled to get from his seat to his feet.

"Ms. Granger! I got your message the other day but I hadn't expected you to come for yourself," the man whose nametag addressed him as 'Willard' blubbered excitedly.

"I wanted to see the prisoner for myself," she explained vaguely, figuring she could chalk it up to him being the former husband of Bellatrix Lestrange if an explanation was eventually needed.

"Of course, of course," Willard said as he gestured them through security, waving off the junior guards who had obviously been ready to check them. "You can go straight back. We've had him put into an interrogation room for you."

"With the upmost anonymity, I assume?" She heard Dolohov as Restova ask thickly.

"All precautions were taken, sir. Nothing that happens in that room will be heard, seen, or detected," the wizard said strangely coldly. A noticeable difference from his earlier cheer.

"Very good," Dolohov responded before continuing to move past the man. Hermione stayed in step with them and noticed quickly that they were just going to be let back there with no precautions. She had just snuck two notoriously wanted Death Eaters into Azkaban and no one had even bothered to check.

Maybe her name did carry more weight than she realized…

"What did Willard mean earlier? When he said the room was entirely protected like that," she whispered to Dolohov once they were out of earshot from any prying ears.

"It's common for the guards to allow Aurors to abuse or torture prisoners," he replied simply, no emotion behind his words. And she suspected that he had been subjected to a few of those himself.

"But wouldn't the Ministry know if it was happening?"

"Not if there's no proof besides the word of a convict."

Hermione quieted after hearing that. She knew that politics could get ugly. She knew that every establishment and government had its problems. But the people incarcerated here were just as much human as the ones who weren't.

Then again, once upon a time a Dark Lord had vied for total destruction of Muggles and their ilk. And the Ministry had done nothing of importance to stop it. The world was far from perfect. She knew that all too well.

When they finally reached the designated interrogation room, Hermione entered first. The sight in front of her was utterly pitiful.

The man on the tiny stool across from the old wooden table had ratty and tangled hair down to his waist when sitting. His entire form looked gaunt and shallow and paler than what she suspected it normally was. And when his head raised, she first noticed the unkempt beard that desperately needed a trim. But then she saw the despair and anguish behind familiar blue eyes that should never hold that much sadness in them. They were meant for laughter and happiness and glee.

Not… Not this…

Rabastan and Dolohov entered shortly after her with the latter magically sealing the door behind them for safe measure.

Hermione noticed that Rabastan could only stare at his brother. No words escaped from the mouth that normally couldn't be silent for long periods of time. And the pain she saw in McCormick's brown eyes was enough to make her want to comfort the poor man. He may be a lot of things in life, good and bad, but it was obvious he loved his brother.

Dolohov appeared to be prepared for such an occurrence, so he jumped into action, knowing they only had so much time to make this plan work without any interruptions or complications. Namely the two Polyjuice Potions wearing off before they could exit the prison and apparate away.

Setting the single vial left of the substance on the table, Dolohov made eye contact with the broken man in front of him, uttering, "Drink."

Rodolphus looked quite confused as his blurry eyes focused from the vial in front of him to Dolohov/Restova standing above him.

"Veritaserum?" He guessed weakly. Hermione had never heard the man ever speak before, but was surprised to hear the slightly melodious sound nonetheless.

"Polyjuice," Rabastan/McCormick told him quietly. "We're getting you out of here for good, brother."

Rodolphus' eyes suddenly widened as he took in the unfamiliar face. "Bash?" He questioned hoarsely, not taking his eyes off of the man.

"Come on Dolph, we don't have all day," Rabastan jested lightly as he seemed to regain a bit more of his former pep. Rodolphus looked from his brother's figure to Dolohov.

"Tony?" He spoke up to the tall Russian. The wizard only gave a slight nod of his head before Rodolphus broke into a huge, toothy grin. His whole body seemed to deflate with the relief pouring through him.

But then he looked over at Hermione and his smile fell a bit. "That's Hermione Granger… How did you two manage to get her hair? And who is it?"

Rabastan laughed nervously, "Ah, well, Dolph that actually is the lovely Miss Granger. It's a long story, but basically she's helping us get you out, so no more questions until later, yeah?"

Rodolphus could only stare wide-eyed at her but nodded slightly. His eyes went back to the vial in front of him and he swiftly picked it up and downed the whole thing in one gulp. Hermione's eyes watched in fascination as the ragged and tattered figure slowly melted into her own petite and softened image. She had never had anyone be her before but it was interesting to see. This must have been how Harry had felt that night with the seven Potters…

Once the transformation was complete, Dolohov did a bit of fancy wand waving and Hermione suddenly felt her crisp and clean dress cloths replaced with a baggy and dirty Azkaban robe. Dolohov uttered another few words in Russian before tapping his wand on her head and she felt the familiar sensation of the Disillusion Charm.

"Come," he said gruffly. "We have a limited time frame before Rabastan and I's potion wears off."

And just like that, the four of them were off, Hermione invisible with Rodolphus taking her place. She could only hope that they get out as quickly as they got in.


	33. Chapter 33

**_Chapter Thirty-Three_** _– Azkaban – 12:02pm_

Hermione stayed as close as she could get to Dolohov without inhibiting his ability to walk properly. Out of the corner of her eye she watched Rodolphus in her body like a hawk.

It wasn't that she didn't necessarily distrust the man. From everything she had heard about him from Dolohov and Rabastan, he seemed like one of the few wholly decent Death Eaters. But having him Polyjuiced as her was a completely different level of trust that she couldn't name anyone she would be comfortable with doing the same.

This was her livelihood, her reputation, at stake. And if this man somehow ruined it… She shuddered to think what would happen to her. Then again, she had no idea what would be happening after they got Rodolphus out of here.

Would they all leave? That would be the best course of action, she supposed. It's what she would do if she were in their position.

But leaving meant leaving her behind. And she wasn't so sure about that one.

It wasn't that she was in love with Dolohov. Half the time she could picture herself strangling him in his sleep. But she was definitely attached to him. Rabastan as well. Somewhere along the line these dangerous men had grown on her. And she didn't want to think about life after they were gone.

She felt like they were her sole protection. Her only true access to safety. Because these men knew Greyback better than anyone else. And because they were equally terrifying enough to ward him away.

She couldn't say the same about anyone else. Not even Harry.

As they approached the front doors, Hermione's heart began beating wildly in her chest. This was it. Either they accomplished it or they didn't.

She watched as the guard, Willard, lifted his head and she clenched her fist into Dolohov's robes. But then a cheery smile appeared on the man's face as he waved pleasantly to them. Hermione let a breath of air release and watched as Rodolphus raised his/her hand to wave back at the man.

 _Good_ , she thought. _I would probably do that to be polite..._ _Merlin this was weird._..

And then the four of them were out the doors and back into the dull cloudy environment that surrounded the island. She happened to look over and noticed her Polyjuiced form had their nostrils flaring a bit as she guessed Rodolphus was sucking in air at a rapid pace. It had probably been a while, she figured. She'd let it slide.

But as they walked towards the Apparation point, a familiar voice called from in front of them, "Hermione!" She looked up in horror as Harry came running towards them, a wide smile on his face.

"What are you doing here?" He asked as he came to stop in front of Rodolphus. Hermione's stomach fell as she thought she was about to be sick. There was no way Harry wouldn't know that it wasn't her. They had been friends since they were eleven.

She felt Dolohov shift in her grasp but could only look on in horror at what was about to unfurl.

Rodolphus only faltered for a moment, before responding in a light titter that surprisingly sounded just like Hermione's voice, "Oh, just doing a favor for the Aurors."

Hermione looked down at just the right moment to see Dolohov sneakily stuff his wand back into his robes. Smart thinking, she internally praised. She needed to get that spell off of him. How did he even know a spell to disguise someone's voice?

Harry seemed to finally notice the two men with her and nodded in understanding. "Right, I forgot that you and McCormick have been on similar cases before. And uh, hello Auror Restova."

Hermione had no idea how Harry knew that. She only vaguely remembered working with the real McCormick twice. But she watched as both men nodded their heads curtly at her friend.

"What are you doing here, Harry?" Rodolphus asked.

"Just dropping off some paperwork to Willard. Nothing too exciting," he said with a light chuckle.

"Well I'll let you get back to that then," Rodolphus told him as her.

"Alright, I'll see you later then. Will you be home for dinner? I can pick us up some takeout from that place on Elm you wanted to try?" he asked.

"That sounds lovely Harry, I'll see you when you get home."

With a bright smile in her doppelganger's direction and polite nods to the other two, Harry continued on his trek into Azkaban as the real Hermione exhaled harshly.

That went better than she had expected. But she was slightly peeved that Harry hadn't even noticed that it wasn't actually her.

The four of them stood silently for a moment as the reality that they had just fooled Harry Potter settled into their minds. Dolohov muttered something about ' _shitty Aurors'_ and went to continue walking towards the Apparation point.

When they finally returned to the Death Eater's apartment, Hermione fell into a chair as the spell around her wore off at the exact time the Polyjuice seemed to be wearing off on the others. Her heart was still racing from the uncertainty surrounding that breakout. And the fact that it had gone so much better than she had ever expected.

The others joined her around the table as Dolohov uncorked a bottle of whiskey, pouring four glasses for all of them. Rabastan picked up his and smiled fondly at his brother, "To the breakout of the century." Hermione and Dolohov only raised their glasses as the brothers clinked them together before they all took a huge sip.

Hermione already felt her head begin to spin and set the rest of her glass on the table, not trusting her stomach. She still had a little remnant from the prior discomfort she had felt while inside of the prison.

And she only listened halfheartedly as Rabastan regaled their tale to his brother. He explained how the two had gotten away to Russia and then began planning to return for Rodolphus. What they had done in Britain, how they had met Hermione, how she had gotten involved, and everything finally leading up to today's excursion.

Rodolphus listened silently with a look of extreme gratitude and disbelief covering his face while Dolohov just continued to drink. But the man was watching her over the top of his glass and whenever she'd meet his eye, the intensity in it told her exactly what he was thinking about, causing her face to heat up.

She tried to ignore him, but it was better said than done. The man had a way of wearing her down.

After everything had been said by Rabastan, Rodolphus only sat in stunned silence before hoarsely uttering, "I-I… I don't know what to say… Except, thank you. All of you." He met their eyes individually and Hermione couldn't help but smile in return. He really did seem like a nice man.

Finishing the rest of his glass off, Dolohov stood from the table, "We'll give you two time to reconnect then." He took Hermione's hand and swiftly pulled her up and out of her chair. She didn't even try to protest. It wasn't like she didn't enjoy herself either.

But she did notice the look of confusion and concern spread across Rodolphus' face as the pair walked into Dolohov's bedroom. The door closed with a snap before she could think much further on the subject though.

And then it was nothing but him and her.


	34. Chapter 34

**_Chapter Thirty-Four_ _– Apartment of Antonin Dolohov and Rabastan Lestrange – 8:34am_**

After her evening with Dolohov, Hermione didn't return to the apartment again until two weeks later. When it was finally safe to leave her apartment without the threat of Aurors following her. Or Harry losing his damned mind.

She had been questioned thoroughly by Ministry officials when they had received word of Rodolphus Lestrange's escape and her "appearance" at Azkaban around the same time, but she claimed no knowledge of anything involving it. She had run into the younger Lestrange brother and Dolohov plenty of times, it wouldn't have been hard for them to have snatched a few of her hairs, she had told the investigators. The Ministry already had reports of those first few run-ins, it wasn't out of the realm of possibility.

She set the Aurors onto the trail of someone who was probably using Polyjuice to get in and out of wizard hotspots including the "heavily guarded" prison and swiftly managed to lose their interest. And Harry, well… He was furious that someone had impersonated her to his face. Although Hermione secretly thought that he was more upset with himself for not realizing it.

But her life seemed to go back to normal after the incident. No one came around asking vague questions, no one even seemed to glance twice at her except with pity that her face and name had been used by criminals.

Hermione found herself being able to breath a bit easier though. This was a huge weight off of her chest, but now… now she had to figure out what Dolohov and the Lestrange brothers were going to do now.

And Greyback… He continued to loom over her as well.

Standing outside of the slightly illuminated apartment building, Hermione exhaled quickly before making her way up to the second floor and to the familiar door. Knocking swiftly, she only had to wait a minute before it opened gingerly, almost hesitantly.

Neither man did that and when she spied an unfamiliar looking gentleman in the doorway, she briefly worried that the three had already skipped town. But then she locked eyes with those startling blue irises.

"Rodolphus?" She asked in slight surprise. He seemed to perk up a bit when he noticed it was just her and opened the door wider for her.

He looked so much better with a good grooming session. His beard had been shaved and now just resembled a case of perpetual five o'clock shadow. His long, previously lanky hair had been sheared and washed so that it hung weightlessly underneath of his ears.

He was wearing actual cloths now and looked much more like the man she suspected he looked like before this recent stint in Azkaban. Although the circles under the eyes, the sullen look, and the skinny frame would most likely take much more time to improve upon. She remembered it had taken almost two years before Sirius had started to resemble his former self.

"Come in Miss Granger. I was just getting ready to make breakfast," he said in a lighter, more crisp voice. Not the hoarse tone she had heard days earlier. So much improvement in these past two weeks. They had already made a world of difference for the man.

Wait a minute…

"You actually know how to cook?" She questioned skeptically.

He glanced over at her from the stove and nodded slowly. "Yes, I learned when I was much younger, but they aren't really skills you forget over time."

"Apparently the other two didn't follow your lead," she huffed out in amazement. At least one of the three purebloods could cook. Despite it being utterly odd, it was better than none.

"No, I never expected it either. Rabastan was too fond of toys and, well, himself. Antonin on the other hand was much more studious and strived to better himself as a wizard. Neither had much need for the simpler aspects of life."

"So you took on that role?" She finished as his words trailed off a bit.

She watched as a small smile crossed his lips before he tilted his head in agreement. "I suppose I did."

Crossing the space between them, Hermione stood behind the counter next to the man and began helping him prepare the meal. They worked in a pleasant silence that Hermione had only ever shared with Dolohov before. But this was still just as nice.

Rodolphus really did seem like his brother described him. A kind soul who had gotten mixed up with the wrong sort. Hermione already was feeling a similar fondness for him that she felt for his brother and friend.

As everything was now simmering or cooking on the stove, Hermione went to go set the table when Rodolphus' voice stopped her.

"Miss Granger… Hermione, would it be alright for me to ask you something? Something I'm afraid is quite personal to you?"

His tone of voice was the first thing that caught her attention. He sounded nervous again. Nervous and concerned. And the way he worded the question… it reminded her of the brief look she had caught before she had gone to Dolohov's bedroom.

"Sure," she finally responded, turning to give him her full attention. She figured this would end up being a serious talk anyways. Though not exactly in the way it had ended up being…

"You and Antonin…" He started, still appearing unsure of his words. She waited patiently as he finally found the words he wanted and then lost them again, deflating a bit for a moment.

He ended up running his hand back through his hair and cringing before finally blurting out, "As long as Rabastan is fine with it, I suppose I will be as well."

That caused Hermione to pause. "Um, what… what does Rabastan have to do with it?" She asked, unsure herself. Perhaps he meant that he didn't necessarily like the idea of it, but since his brother was fine with it, he could be as well?

"You mean you didn't know? Or well, he didn't tell you?" Rodolphus asked in honest surprise.

"Know what?"

"Rabastan's been in love with Antonin since they were children," the man across from her stated simply. But it was as though a bomb went off in Hermione's mind.

Rabastan.

In love.

With Dolohov.

Her mind began screeching in a mixture of horror and confusion as the weight of Rodolphus' words fell upon her.

"I-I didn't know that," she managed to stutter out as her dropped jaw most likely alerted Rodolphus to her internal struggle as he immediately looked guilty.

"Perhaps I should not have said anything… But I just found it so odd that my brother seemed almost… happy, as you two walked away with clear intention on your faces," Rodolphus muttered as Hermione felt her face began to heat up drastically.

"But it has been a while since I last broached the subject with him. It's possible he's moved past it," Rodolphus added, seemingly talking to himself now more than Hermione.

All that was in her mind was the mental picture of the two men…

 _Merlin why?!_


	35. Chapter 35

**_Chapter Thirty-Five – Apartment of Antonin Dolohov and Rabastan Lestrange – 8:03am_**

Hermione hadn't known how to respond to the information Rodolphus had just revealed to her and ended up excusing herself from the room. She wound up outside of the apartment complex, sitting on a bench staring at the cloudy overcast and wondering how messed up this situation really was.

Sure, she had thought that Rabastan was a little… different. But she had chalked that up to neglect and possible inbreeding.

But to be in love with Dolohov?

It was plausible. He did talk about the man incessantly, and even more than friends usually do. And the closeness could be from affection, not necessarily friendship.

 _Ugh…_ She just wanted to run her hands through her hair and pull each strand out by the root. Why did everything have to be so complicated? And why did she have to care so much about Rabastan being in love with Dolohov?

Shouldn't she be happy for a reason to quit the older wizard?

But something in her gut was preventing the expected happiness and joy. Something was causing only more confusion and distress. And Hermione didn't like it one bit.

Placing her elbows on the tops of her knees and letting her chin fall pathetically into her hands, she stared at the small forestry area behind the building and let her thoughts continue to run rampant.

She had no idea how long she had been out there before the sound of grass moving and crunching alerted her to an approaching figure. It was headed straight for her so she figured it had to be one of the three men she was familiar with.

Turning to greet whichever one it was, she came face to face with eerily amber eyes and that disgusting face she had come to loathe and fear.

"You aren't even trying in our little chase anymore, are ya my beauty?" Greyback's gravelly voice asked, but it contained a different lilt to it. He wasn't taunting her, he seemed strangely serious. "Or did the geezer finally give ya up?"

Hermione's entire body tensed up and her fight or flight response came alive for the first time in the werewolf's presence. She took note of the familiar spark of magic from the inside of her coat pocket and stealthy eyed the entrance to apartment complex. If she could just get inside and throw a few distracting hexes along the way… she might just have a chance to reach Dolohov.

Greyback wasn't directly in front of her, just hovering over the back of the bench, watching her like the predator he was. But she wasn't going to be prey today. She had a new pack inside. One that she would bet would help her if needed.

"I wouldn't be so sure about your new friends, pet," Greyback said, seemingly reading her mind. Her head twisted towards him as he grinned that feral toothy smile of his.

"I can smell 'em. Been around 'em enough times to tell. But the older Lestrange is a surprise. Thought he was still locked up tight," the wolf spoke as he slowly started to walk around the bench. But Hermione kept her eyes between him and the line that would take her directly into the building.

"My packmates heard a little disturbance about someone gettin' out of Azkaban recently. Did you help too? I knew you had a feisty spirit but you've always been painted the good little girl. Not much for rule breaking?" He continued, edging closer to her as she feigned immobility.

He laughed hoarsely as he told her, "Don't worry though. I like both."

The sound of his amusement sent shivers up her spine and chilled her skin, causing goosebumps to erupt all over. But she stayed focus on the way to safety. Her only salvation was upstairs at Room 234.

"What do you want?" She asked quietly, wanting to distract him a bit more. If he thought she wasn't going to move, then he would be even more surprised when she did. His react time would be lowered.

"I just wanted to make sure my mate wasn't getting into anything she wasn't supposed to," he said with a dark chuckle. "Like… Dolohov?"

Her face flushed of its own violation.

"It'll be alright though pet. It just means I'll have won you in the end," his voice quieted a bit as he stood next to her, crouching down to speak into her ear.

"You, begging for me like a bitch in heat. Ripe with my pups. Taking care of the den. Enjoying the kills with me. It'll be all worth it in the end. Besides, Dolohov won't be around much longer. They'll be itchin' to get outta London once the Aurors crack down. And you'll have no choice but to end our game."

She felt his nose inhale deeply next to her and then his fingers were in her hair. She couldn't move. Her plan was failing miserably. Mustering up the courage to grab her wand, it was too late. He had let go of her, the curly hair falling from his grasp.

And then he was gone almost as quickly as he had come. Leaving her a shivering mess on the bench.

A few minutes later, and she was finally standing from the bench. Her legs were a little unsteady from all the tension and adrenaline that had just wreaked havoc on her body. But she managed to make it back up the stairs and inside of the apartment.

And walked right into a fight.

"You had no right Dolph!" Rabastan yelled angrily at his regretful looking brother.

"I was only trying to look out for you," Rodolphus tried to say softly but winced as his brother began yelling again.

"No right! It wasn't any of your business! You could have asked first-" But he stopped swiftly as he noticed Hermione standing in the open doorway.

"Hermione!" He exclaimed happily before running over and wrapping his arms around her as tight as he could get them without physically injuring her.

"Rabastan…" Her voice came out muffled as the fabric from his shirt covered her mouth.

"Come on, we need to talk," he said in a rush before dragging her back into his bedroom, slamming the door shut as he did.

"Won't your neighbors hear that?" She chastised out of pure habit.

"Probably not, Antonin cast a lot of silencing spells on this place before it was acceptable to live in. That's also why he didn't hear me and Dolph a second ago," he explained to her.

Taking a seat on his own bed, he patted the empty area next to him, "Please sit."

She did as he said because he asked nicely and looked down at her folded hands in front of her. She didn't know why she couldn't really look at the man right now. Was it because all she could see was the two men in… various positions of intimacy?

Or was it because that for some, _Merlin knows why_ , reason she was jealous?

"Dolph told me what he said to you," Rabastan told her softly. "And while it wasn't his to tell, I figure that I should have probably explained this to you before. So you wouldn't get the wrong idea."

The wrong idea? Now she was curious, turning her head slightly to watch him out of the corner of her eye. His eyes were downcast as he seemed to search for his words.

"Yes, I loved Antonin. For a very long time, in fact. He was the… the beautiful Russian boy my brother would bring over at first and it just grew into more feelings. On my part only," he said with a brief huff of laughter. "Pretty sure he never saw me as anything more than Dolph's annoying younger brother."

"I don't think that's true Rabastan," Hermione interrupted quietly. Turning to look at him fully. "He seems to respect you much more than that."

Smiling slightly, Rabastan nodded his head a bit, "I guess you're right. We do work pretty well together. And I'm one of the few people who can tolerate his naturally grumpy disposition," he joked.

"That's pretty true," Hermione said with a giggle. And before she knew it, the two of them had erupted into a fit of giggles, falling backwards onto his bed in an effort to better their labored breathing.

"You two really are similar, Mione," she heard Rabastan breath out. She wondered what he meant by that some days. But figured it's a story for another day.

Hermione took the man's hand in hers and held it close to her heart. "As long as you don't mind what the two of us are doing…"

"Not at all sweetheart. I'm just glad one of us is," he said cheekily, earning a playful smack to the stomach.

"I mean it Rabastan," she warned.

"So did I, love," he countered, rolling onto his side to look her in the eye. "I'm happy for you. That he makes you happy. That you feel safe with him."

"With all of you," she corrected, as she tightened her grip on his hand and smiled back at his own cheerful grin.

The door to the room suddenly opened and the two looked up to see Dolohov standing in the doorway. He eyed them in confusion before looking back out at Rodolphus and then back again.

"Wha-?" But the two of them had already burst out into laughter again as the wizard gave them an affronted look before walking away, muttering," _The bloody hell goes on in this place…"_


	36. Chapter 36

**_Chapter Thirty-Six_** _– The Ministry Atrium – 6:59pm_

* * *

Hermione's life had begun to get back to a normal routine. Well… as normal as one might have expected.

She spent more time at work, busying herself as much as possible. She kept up a good relationship with Mr. Weasley who seemed barely fazed by Hermione's falling out with his wife and daughter. And she even made more time for Harry so he'd stop acting so suspicious of her.

She hadn't seen or heard from Greyback. No mysterious notes, no grotesque gifts, no reappearances. Nothing.

And as for her three tentative Death Eater friends, she still visited almost every day. That was the only thing that kept her from having the normal life she had previously lived. Well, that and sleeping with Dolohov as much as she did.

But lately she seemed to just be getting more and more insatiable. Which of course her partner never complained about, but it was still odd to Hermione. She had never been the type.

Sighing to herself as she continued her trek to the front doors, she only paused at the sound of her name being called from behind her. Turning in surprise, she came face to face with her red haired boss.

"What's wrong Mr. Weasley?" She questioned politely. They were still at work after all, and even if she was due to leave, that didn't mean he still didn't have need of her.

"Oh, nothing work related, my dear. I was just wondering if you and Harry would like to join us for dinner at the Burrow tomorrow night. A good old fashioned Saturday dinner."

Pausing slightly, Hermione ran through different scenarios in her mind. The thought of dinner with the Weasley women was… less than appealing. But she hadn't seen George in forever, and hadn't been able to have a decent personal conversation with Mr. Weasley due to the busy nature of their line of work.

Swallowing whatever negative feelings she felt, she put a warm smile on her face as she told him, "We'd love to." Harry would go along with whatever she decided upon. It was just in his nature. But first she had to explain it to him.

Before she went home though, she made a quick grocery run before arriving at the familiar apartment complex. She managed to whip up a decently cooked meal before the three men even bothered to wake up. Rabastan stuck his head out of his doorway, sniffing the air as he did.

"Huh, something other than meat and potatoes? I've got to say, you're really improving," he said cheekily, narrowly missing a wooden spoon to the side of the head.

"Keep talking like that and you'll go hungry," she warned.

She heard his little chuckle in return and rolled her eyes, knowing that even though he couldn't see her, he knew she was probably doing it. Rabastan seemed to have the intuition about him.

The rest of the evening went the same as it usually did. A pleasant dinner between the four of them and then Hermione retiring to Dolohov's room for some private time.

She left as soon as they were finished, feeling amazing as usual as she walked out of the apartment, smelling like sex and something woodsy that was entirely Dolohov.

Harry was still up and in the kitchen when she walked into Grimmauld Place. Remembering what Mr. Weasley had told her before she had left work, she tried approaching Harry with that. Hopefully throwing him off his usual game of twenty questions about where she had been.

"So… I was talking to Mr. Weasley after work today," she said, deciding to start off lighter than just coming right out with it. She had no idea how Harry would react to the possibility of an evening with his ex-girlfriend and motherly figure. Especially after how they treated her.

"Mm?" he responded as he looked up from his files.

She exhaled a bit to give herself reason to pause before just telling him, "He's invited the two of us to the Burrow tomorrow night. For dinner."

"Both of us?" Harry asked curiously, wondering if it wasn't just a veiled attempt to get him back into their lives.

"Yes, both of us."

He paused for a moment before asking, "Do you want to go?"

"I don't see any harm in not going," she said honestly. And it was true. The worst that could happen would be another spat between her and the Weasley women. But Hermione figured they would try to be on their best behaviors after seeing how quickly Harry ignored them for her.

"Alright then," Harry conceded. "We'll go for a little bit. But if they say anything bad about you again, we're gone."

"Deal."

The following day had Harry and Hermione spending most of it together. She felt as though she owed him that much before sending him back to a place that made him visibly uncomfortable anymore. It certainly wasn't the same place he had first seen when he was twelve.

She figured she would slip away later that night and go see the brothers and Dolohov again. Maybe fix them a meal again. Merlin knew that at least Rodolphus needed it after being stuck in Azkaban.

Sighing lightly, she looked at herself once again in the mirror and decided she looked presentable enough for dinner. Not too showy, but certainly not someone to be shoved aside.

"Ready to go?" She heard Harry ask from the hallway outside her room. Opening her door, she peeked her head out to see him in a similar style of dress as her. They actually almost matched with their blue shirts.

Still presenting the couple, she mused.

"Yeah, let's get this over with."

"The sooner, the better," he groaned dramatically before taking her arm so they could head to the fireplace together.

"Who knows, it might be nice for once," she said before giggling at the doubtful look Harry gave her. He didn't seem to have high hopes for the evening. As mild as Hermione's were, she still possessed a bit.

But after they Flooed to the Burrow, the sounds inside were certainly not the typical ones she expected.

Loud sobbing could be heard coming from the kitchen, along with a voice that Hermione recognized as Percy's.

"It'll be alright mum. You don't know for sure. It could be a stupid prank," he said in an audibly consoling voice. Hermione exchanged a worried look with Harry before the two edged closer to the kitchen.

"You don't know that! He could be dead already and none of us are doing anything!"

"We need to go to Grimmauld Place," she heard Ginny angrily exclaim. "Drag that bitch out by her frizzy hair and demand to know what she's done."

Harry, impulsive hero that he was, knew exactly who his ex-girlfriend was speaking of and charged to her defense.

"What did you just say?" He demanded to know as he showed himself in the doorway, Hermione close behind him.

Mrs. Weasley pointed one of her fingers at her and shrieked, " _You_! You're responsible for this!"

"Responsible for what?" She asked in complete confusion. She hadn't even _seen_ any of them for months besides Mr. Weasley.

"For this!" Ginny bit out as she shoved a small paper box into Hermione's hands.

Her heart almost stopped as she kept the familiar material and looked at the appearance of it. It was the same. The same thing she had received for most of the year following the war. The same thing that had contained parts of her parents.

With trembling fingers and all eyes on her, Hermione opened the already unsealed box. Looking inside, she saw the broken glasses that looked the same as the usual pair seen sitting on the end of Mr. Weasley's nose while working.

And the note. The note that was always methodically placed on the bottom of the lid. It read: " _I told you our game wasn't over, my pet. And now you're responsible for another life. Give yourself to me. And only me."_

But all Hermione could see was the broken body of the kind and lovable Arthur Weasley. Nothing more than a play toy to the werewolves because of her stupid mistakes.

Because of her negligence.


End file.
